Moonlighters
by heartmurmured
Summary: Rosalie Matthews stole Ponyboy's heart the way she stole packs of Kools from the drugstore. And that's not even her worst habit. (OFC POV. Rated T for violence, language, and drug/alcohol use.)
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

The first time I saw Johnny Cade come and knock on my door, in the middle of the night, with a black eye and a bloody lip, I had just turned ten years old.

It was a few weeks before Christmas in 1961, freezing cold but no snow on the ground yet. Because it was Friday, I was up late, sitting cross legged on the living room floor and watching reruns of I Love Lucy on our old TV. The volume was turned down real low so that I wouldn't disturb my drunken big brother. Despite the quiet, I still just barely heard the feeble rap at the front door.

In a flash, I leaned forward and hit the power button on the TV set. It was silent now, but I was sure that I'd heard something. I got up and walked on my tiptoes to look out the window. Sure enough, standing on the front step looking like a lost little kid was Johnny Cade.

Two-Bit didn't like me hanging out with his buddies back then. He said he didn't want any kind of bad influence on me. (Which was ridiculous, because I was a greaser too. You really didn't had much of a choice in our neighborhood.) Still, I knew my brother's gang by name and face. Me and my own friends watched them at school, or through my bedroom window, which faced the vacant lot that they hung around in. While Beth just fawned over Sodapop Curtis, and Jennifer liked Dallas Winston's bad boy attitude, I had always had eyes for Johnny.

He was good looking, with his dark hair and black eyes, but that wasn't why I was so sweet on him. It wasn't uncommon to hear Johnny's mama yelling at him, or spot bruises on his face. It made me ache. Before my own daddy left, he liked to get drunk and smack all of us around too. I knew what it was like to try to put yourself back together without ever admitting that you were falling apart in the first place. I guess that's why the sight of him on my front step was almost more than my little heart could bear.

"Johnny? Are you okay?" I asked him quietly once I had swung the door open.

He was clearly surprised to see me. Even though one eye was swelling, the boy still widened them. "Rosalie? Uh... is Two-Bit here?"

"He came home from Tim Shepard's party and passed out. I think he got a little too drunk," I told him, very matter of factly. My brother was a big fan of alcohol too, but he was usually nicer when he drank, unlike our father. Or Johnny's dad. "You can still come in if you need a place to sleep though."

The dark haired boy hung his head. "It's alright, I don't wanna bother you..."

"It's no bother. Come on in."

I didn't want to tell him that Mama absolutely fretted over Johnny, telling Two-Bit and I both that we were to let him stay any time he wanted. She had bought a pillow and blanket just for him. I didn't want Johnny to think we felt sorry for him though, no matter how much we did. So I kept my mouth shut. I regret that now.

Johnny sat on the edge of the couch. His black eyes darted all around the room. I turned the TV set back on, mostly to fill the silence, before asking him, "Do you want any aspirin or ice? That looks like it hurts."

The boy flushed. "That'd be nice. Thank you, Rosalie."

I hurried into the kitchen before I said something foolish. Gosh, but I wished I wasn't wearing an old shirt of Two-Bit's that went past my knees. I had just turned ten a couple weeks ago, but I was still skinny and small. My friend Jennifer Price already had a boy ask her to go steady. They held hands on the playground. No boy had ever asked me though, probably because I still looked like a little kid. I'd never even been alone with a boy - until then.

Johnny was leaned back against the couch with his eyes closed when I returned a few moments later, a glass of water, four aspirin, and a bag of frozen peas in tow. Even all bloodied up, he was still awfully handsome. I couldn't tell if he was really asleep or just pretending, but either way, I understood. I set everything down on the coffee table where he could see it, then got his blanket out of the closet, tossing it gently across him. He was still wearing his denim jacket.

I crept down the hallway, past Two-Bit's snores, into my own bedroom. After locking the door behind me, I opened my bedroom window, the one that faced the lot. Under the bed was a rainbow pencil case containing about five cigarettes and a pack of matches. I didn't smoke regularly then, but it was still fun to swipe a smoke or two from my mama or Two-Bit. Seeing Johnny Cade's injuries up close made my fingers itch for one in a way I had never experienced before.

A few years previously, I had positioned a little wooden stool by the window so I could sit and watch the boys. It was here that I sat to smoke.

I had lived on the corner of Chickasaw Street my entire life. When my mama found out she was pregnant with my big brother, my dad married her even though she was only seventeen and he was twenty-three. He managed to talk the bank into giving him a mortgage on one, little run down house - the one I grew up in.

Mama was the one paying on that mortgage now. Daddy ran off when I was seven and Two-Bit was twelve. According to Mama, he had never really wanted a family. We were lucky to have him for the years we did. Daddy was a drunk, for certain, and a mean one, but he had good moments too. Even I remembered his booming laugh, the way he teased us all and made us smile. I guess that's why it messed all three of us up so bad when he left.

Two-Bit followed in Daddy's footsteps and started drinking. Dallas Winston had just moved to town, and the two of them began to raise hell together. My brother was already thieving, so they went around town and stole cigarettes and conned guys into buying them booze. By the time he turned fourteen, he was rarely home, and if he was, he was usually crocked. It made me angry, to tell you the truth. Mama and I both loved Two-Bit to death; he had no reason to do all that running around. Maybe Dally, with his wild reputation, but not my big brother.

Me, I began fighting. I was an absolute demon to the other kids at school, let me tell you. I'd been watching Two-Bit and his buddies wrestle my entire life, so I knew how to throw a punch, and how to dodge one. I liked throwing them better though. Because of this, I got suspended pretty often in elementary school. I made really good grades, so the principal didn't want to kick me out or anything, but he had to punish me somehow. I kind of liked being sent home for a week anyway. And I really liked clobbering the hell out of any girl or boy who looked at me wrong.

As for Mama, she began work at the very same bar her husband once wasted his life away at. Monday through Saturday, she was there from three or four in the afternoon till six in the morning. Even then, we still just barely made enough money to get by. Two-Bit learned to hustle, but I was still a little bit too young for that at the time. I'd just learned how to get by without, how to do without asking. That was just part of growing up in our neighborhood.

I liked living here though, despite all of that. My best friend Carla lived three houses down, with the Curtises' just past her and across the street. Johnny was only two doors away. I knew everybody in this neighborhood. Even if we were all poor, we were all real nice to each other, and took care of each other when we could. I liked that a lot.

When my cigarette had burnt out and my eyes hurt from staring at the street lamp, I threw the butt out of the window before closing it back up, drawing the curtains. Once I had crawled into bed, I dreamed of black eyes and timid smiles for the first time - but not the last.

It was silly, but after that one night, I worshipped Johnny Cade. I doodled his name in the margin of all my notebooks, and dreamed about the day that I was old enough for him to love me back. It didn't matter that we'd exchanged maybe three sentences that night, or that he was gone by the time I woke up. I truly thought that I was in love with him.

For the first few years, Johnny didn't come to my house as much. The Curtises usually let him sleep over there. But then in the beginning of 1965, Mr. and Mrs. Curtis died in a car accident.

God, it was absolutely horrendous. Mama had forced Two-Bit and I go to the funeral, despite both of our protests. I sure wish I hadn't. I'll never forget the look on each Curtis boy's face; Darry, his tall frame shrunken somehow, looking so lost and so afraid; gorgeous Sodapop bawling like a broken child; and Ponyboy, with his sweet face, trying so hard to be strong and still sobbing. I wept at the sight of them more than anything else. I still think about that funeral.

After their parents died, Johnny stopped going to the Curtises as much. Which was great for me, because my house was really the only other option. Two-Bit was boozing more than ever, and Mama worked every night, so that usually left me as the one to clean Johnny up.

There was a brief, beautiful few months there when I could talk to the boy, and make him smile. He didn't really say much back, but he laughed at all my jokes, usually about the people on TV or kids we knew. I was thirteen, and all I wanted in this world was to make Johnny Cade happy. It seemed like I could do it too, for a little while.

And then Johnny got jumped.

It was May. I was supposed to go to Carla's after school, but she was sick, so I stayed home instead. I had just pulled out some homework in my bedroom when I saw Johnny kicking around the football in the empty lot. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. What would happen if I went out there and talked to him? We'd never really spoken outside of my house, let alone in the light of day. Would he finally talk to me? Could I at least get a smile?

Just as I was about to abandon my text books, a blue Cadillac slowly cruised down the street. It idled to a stop at the lot. I held my breath as four Socs filed out of it, smiling coldly.

I knew what they were gonna do. Socs liked to drive around this side of town and look for trouble; this wasn't the first time they had cornered somebody like this. But I didn't move from my spot at the window.

From the look on his face, Johnny knew what was going to happen too. He kept cool though. When they started hitting him, he hit back. For a while.

It was my deepest secret, my biggest shame. I watched those boys jump Johnny Cade, and I couldn't move. I didn't know why. My window was closed, but their voices were still loud and clear as they threatened and swore at him. They took turns beating him, blacking his eyes and cutting up his face. And I just watched, sick and paralyzed with terror. The girl who had won more fights than anybody else my age, the one who broke Angela Shepard's nose in seventh grade. I didn't understand it. I still don't.

Eventually, Johnny stopped getting back up. The Socs, their nice sweaters not even mussed, got into their car just as stoically as they'd gotten out of it. They drove oaway like nothing had even happened.

Time felt funny after that. It took me a minute or two to process that it was over, but once I did, my body felt the horror before my brain. I tore straight for the bathroom, dropping to my knees and very nearly not making it in time. Sick for several minutes, I clutched the toilet with white, shaking hands. I couldn't stop heaving, even when there was nothing left.

When I could finally stand up, I brushed my teeth and tried not to look in the mirror. I was crying, and my makeup was smeared everywhere, but I knew I looked like picturesque compared to Johnny right now.

I grabbed the first aid kit from underneath the sink. On my way out of the door, though, I saw through the living room window that the gang had already beat me to it.

Steve Randle was clutching Johnny's denim jacket, stained with blood. Two-Bit had hopped out of his car with it still running. It was one of the only times I thought we looked alike; my brother and I wore blind shock the same way. Dallas Winston was swearing, I knew, without even hearing it. Darry Curtis looked grim and tight lipped. Soda held Johnny while Ponyboy just stood there, watching. He had that same look on his face from the funeral.

I knew I couldn't tell the gang, who would kill and die for each other, what I had seen. They couldn't understand that there were things worse than being beaten. Hell, I could barely understand why I didn't help. If I came out of the house, at least Two-Bit would know. And they would never forgive me for not helping Johnny. I never really forgave myself.

So, feeling lower than the dirt beneath their shoes, I shakily went back to my room. I had my own pack of Kools now, because I could steal them from drugstores when my friends and I went out on the weekends. It took a minute to light one up though because my hands were trembling. I was still crying too. From my spot in the window, I watched the boys load Johnny up into Two-Bit's car. For a split second, Ponyboy looked up at me, making eye contact through the glass. He looked away quickly though. I wondered if he knew, somehow.

After that, I swore that I'd be better to Johnny. He started coming to spend the night a lot more often, even though he had always slept in the lot during the summer. He was different, though. He almost never spoke, or laughed. Most of the time, he just went right to sleep, or acted like he was.

This gave me months to agonize over a way to tell him how I felt. I thought surely, if he knew how I loved him, it would at least make him feel a little better. And maybe then he'd finally notice me too.

Johnny died before I could tell him, though. And that fucked me up worse than anything.

* * *

A/N: Hello everyone! I really hope you enjoyed this prologue and getting to know Rosalie. :) I haven't written in years, but I found my old account on here (popping-champagne) and was really inspired by a one shot I did based off Ponyboy and Two-Bit's kid sister called Irresponsibly. It's still up if you want to read it, but I have no access to that account anymore, and that story is in no way connected to this one. Anyway, now I'm nearly ten chapters into writing this and enjoying so much that I decided to post. I'm trying to keep things as canon as possible, and it ties in with TWTTIN in places. Please please let me know what you think! Concrit is welcome, I know I'm a little rusty. (And sorry for the paragraph of an author's note.)


	2. This Side of Paradise

**Chapter One: This Side of Paradise**

There was only five more minutes before the bell rang, ending both my algebra class and the school day. I watched the clock, willing the hands to move just a little bit faster. It had been a long Monday. On top of a pop quiz in math and my US History teacher assigning three pages on the Revolutionary War, I needed to persuade Two-Bit into taking me to the grocery store after school. My idiot brother had started dating one of the chicks that worked up there, then promptly dumped her for some other blonde. Now she made a big scene every time she saw him, at work or otherwise. But damn it, it had been over two weeks since Two-Bit (or me) had stepped foot in the store. Darry and Sodapop would never let me go hungry, but I felt bad if I ate with the Curtises too many nights a week. I wanted to cook my own dinner once in a while. Two-Bit was just gonna have to get over it.

"Rose?" Beth Davis whispered. She was louder than she probably realized, especially for her to be sitting right behind me. Several other kids looked up. Thankfully, our teacher did not. "What does FOIL mean again?"

I was grateful that the other girl couldn't see my face as I rolled my eyes and smirked. "First, Outer, Inner, Last."

She sighed, and I could hear erasing and scribbling. Beth had never been too bright. I didn't like algebra (too many formulas to memorize) but I always studied hard and made good grades. The pop quiz had been no sweat for me; I'd turned it in ten minutes ago.

Mrs. Burdeshaw's heels clicked as she walked to the front of the room. How she was still wearing them at nearly 60 years old was a mystery to me. "Class, those of you done with your quizzes may leave now. Don't forget your homework tonight - page 89, all twenty questions."

About half of the students rose from their seats and grabbed their things, including me. Beth watched wistfully.

"Bye, Rosalie," she said.

I smiled sympathetically at her as I swung my book bag onto my shoulder. Beth may have been as dumb as a sack of hammers, but she had been my friend for as long as I could remember. "I'll call you later, okay?"

After Beth nodded, I joined the small crowd headed out into the halls. Ponyboy was already waiting for me, even though the bell still hadn't rang yet. The handsome greaser was leaned up against the opposite wall, a book in hand, so absorbed that he didn't even notice me approach him.

"Whatcha readin'?" I asked pleasantly. When Pony jumped and nearly dropped his paperback, I couldn't resist a giggle. Since he had study hall last period, Ponyboy usually met me at Mrs. Burdeshaw's and walked with me to the parking lot. In the two weeks since school had started, I'd yet to see him waiting without something to read. This was the third time I'd managed to scare him.

"You are quiet as a cat, Rosie, I swear." The boy shook his head, but he was grinning in spite of himself. He never got mad at me. "It's called This Side of Paradise."

"F. Scott Fitzgerald, right?" When Pony nodded, I continued, "I didn't like that rich guy. Gatsby just sounded like a jerk to me."

The bell rang loudly then, and students started pouring out of their classrooms. As Ponyboy and I made our way down the hall together, I noticed more than a few jealous eyes on us.

Now that he was a sophomore, Pony had grown a bit, getting both his build and his hair back. I swear he looked more and more like a green eyed Sodapop every day. He didn't see it, of course, but nobody else could deny that the boy was good looking. Lots of girls were into Pony, especially after he'd been acquitted last year. Even Angela Shepard had set her sights on him a few months ago. But Ponyboy had never really noticed her, and I decided not to clue him in. She was trouble anyway.

It wasn't just girls who watched us though. I wasn't quite fifteen yet, and I had reputation for fighting that was just as fearsome as my big brother's. Unfortunately, that probably made me even more attractive to the type of hoods who usually asked me out. Most of them, I turned down. Since school started, though, I had gone on a couple of dates with a guy named Frank Sullivan from Shepard's gang. I didn't know him very well, but Jennifer Price introduced us after she decided that I needed to double date with her and Curly Shepard, her juvenile delinquent boyfriend. Frank seemed pretty crazy about me, at least.

Pony responded to my literary critique thoughtfully. "Gatsby wasn't all bad, though. He really did love Daisy."

I scoffed, loud enough to be heard over the din. "Bullshit. That's not how love works."

The mahogany haired boy gave me an odd look that I couldn't quite read. I knew Ponyboy better than just about anybody else did (except for maybe Sodapop) so it was a little strange, not being able to tell what he was thinking. Instead of asking, I decided to change the subject. "D'you think that little broad down at the grocery store is still hacked off at Two-Bit?"

We were forced to side step a Soc couple that seemed attached at the lips and unconcerned about the world around them. He gave the pair a dirty look as he replied, "I'm not sure. Why?"

"'Cause I need groceries," I said, elbowing him lightly. I didn't add no duh, though I wanted to.

He furrowed his brow at me. "You know you can come to my house and eat any time. You have been eating, right?"

"Yes, Ponyboy." I smiled, knowing full and well that I probably would've rolled my eyes at anybody else. "I swear, you sound just like Darry."

The boy looked like he was going to reply, but we made it out of the back doors and into the parking lot. The lot was crawling with kids, yelling after each other and laughing loudly; I wouldn't have been able to hear him even if he had said something. Two-Bit usually met us at his car in the afternoons, so we didn't have to converse much as we navigated through the crowd.

Sure enough, my rusty haired brother was leaned up against the hood of his equally rusty car, a cigarette dangling from his lip even though we weren't supposed to smoke at school. He flashed his signature wild grin when he spotted me and Pony. "Hey, kids, y'all ready to go?"

Two-Bit insisted on driving me home from school every day, even though the walk wasn't that bad. In turn, I demanded that Ponyboy ride with us. We had to drive right by his house anyway. I always sat in between the two boys in the front seat. Before he even started the car, my brother passed the pack of Kools to me. I handed Ponyboy one (no need to ask - Pony always wanted a smoke) before getting a cigarette myself. Once we had lit up and pulled out of our parking spot, I caught Pony's eye and winked.

"So, Two-Bit, you talked to Bonnie lately?" My voice was real innocent, but my big brother shot me a suspicious look.

"I haven't. It ain't really talkin' these days, though, it's mostly her yellin' and me pretendin' I can't hear her," Two-Bit drawled.

"Well, is she still yelling?" I questioned patiently.

He laughed so heartily, I couldn't help but join in. "Darlin', I have never known a broad to stop. But why ya askin' me about Bonnie?"

I blew out a big cloud of smoke before replying, "We don't really have any food at the house."

Two-Bit made kind of a yelp and looked at me. I guess he forgot we were pulling out on onto the road at that very moment. "For how long? You've been eating, right?"

"Yes. Golly, I know I'm skinny, but y'all make me feel bad. Pony said the same thing." I frowned and tried to pull my dress over my knees. It was too short after the little growth spurt I'd had over the summer.

My big brother tugged on my ponytail, quick and affectionate. "We're just lookin' out for ya, kiddo. Speaking of which, Ponykid, you mind taking her to the store? I'd feel awfully bad if I got Bonnie fired right after I dumped her."

I snorted. Pony, ever polite, told him, "Sure. Where are you gonna go?"

"Down to the DX, annoy Sodapop and Steve for a little while. Y'all can pick me up when you're done - unless I can get a ride from some good looking little gal," Two-Bit replied roguishly.

Ponyboy raised his eyebrows. "You're gonna let me drive the car?"

"Shoot, kid, the way my sister shops for food, you'll need it." He pulled my hair again, and I punched him in the ribs. "Besides, you drove this baby around over the summer. You know the rules. Just take care of my angel, and don't get caught."

"The angel being the car, and not me, obviously," I chimed in.

Now it was Pony's turn to wink at me. Gosh, but he was getting too good looking to be doing all that. His eyes were as green as a field in the summertime.

We pulled into the gas station a few minutes later. It was so packed, it took a minute for us to find a place to park. A lot of the kids from school headed straight here, it seemed; I spotted Beth and her older sister Sharon talking to some guys, along with plenty of other people I knew.

"You want a Pepsi before we go?" Ponyboy asked me. "I'm gonna tell Soda where I'm at in case Darry gets home early and starts looking for me."

I agreed. It was impossible for me to turn down a Pepsi - or a chance to see Sodapop.

Soda was helping some girl who probably didn't even really need gas, so Pony and I headed inside to get our drinks. By the time we made it out of the store, the handsome blonde was talking to Two-Bit, that megawatt smile visible from the door. He brightened even more when I waved at him.

"Hey, Rose!" He grinned at me. "How's my favorite gal?"

"I'm good," I beamed back. "Your brother has to take me grocery shopping 'cause my brother is an idiot, but that's okay. I like makin' all the other girls in town jealous."

Pony flushed red, exactly as I'd hoped. I could tease that boy all day long, I swear.

Sodapop chuckled. "What about that boyfriend of yours, from Shepard's outfit? He don't get jealous?"

I frowned at him. "Frank definitely ain't my boyfriend. We've only been on two dates, and that was just 'cause Jennifer and Curly told us to."

"Jennifer Price is dating Curly Shepard?" Ponyboy asked incredulously.

"Oh yeah, they're hot and heavy, when he ain't messing with other broads," I replied. "But Jenny says every greaser boy is like that, so you might as well pick your favorite and stick with him."

All three boys looked immediately affronted, eyes wide like saucers. The Curtises in particular had scrap their jaws off the ground.

Two-Bit spoke first. "Rosalie Lucille Matthews, if a boy ever cheats on you, you just let me know, and I promise that after I get hold of him, he'll be the last."

"And don't you go messing around on anybody either," Soda warned me. "It just ain't right."

I gave him a significant look. It had been a year, but he still hadn't really recovered from Sandy leaving - or her apparently cheating on him. The older boy stared at the ground and kicked a pebble.

"Alright, alright, I get the picture," I mumbled.

"You ready to go, Rosie?" Pony asked me. Just from his tone, I could tell that this topic had him uncomfortable. I knew the feeling.

"Yeah. I'll see y'all in a bit, okay?"

"Alright. Be careful, Ponyboy, don't let no cops see you," Sodapop told his brother.

"Don't worry. Promise I'll bring her back in one piece, Two-Bit." Then, with a wicked smile shot my way, he added, "The car, that is, not Rosie."

Soda gave me a strange look that resembled the same unreadable one from Ponyboy earlier. I shook his off too, punching Pony in the arm playfully as we headed for the car.

* * *

 **A/N** : What do you guys think so far? There will be a lot more explanation of Rosalie and Ponyboy's friendship/relationship in later chapters but I really wanted to establish the characters first. Thank you to those who reviewed. Please let me know your thoughts on this one! :)


	3. Big Girls Don't Cry

**Chapter Two: Big Girls Don't Cry**

"I made a list during second period," I told Ponyboy reluctantly, pulling the sheet of paper out of my purse.

He guffawed at me, just as I expected. It made him look even more like his brother. "Always organized, ain't ya?"

"It's a long one," I warned him. I pulled a buggy away from the rest and set my purse down in it. "Mama gave me money this morning. She wasn't real happy that Two-Bit and I had let it go this long."

All traces of laughter died immediately. "Rosie, next time, just ask Soda or Darry, or even me. We'll all take you. And let me push that."

I might have argued anybody else. But this Ponyboy, so I merely stepped back and let him have the buggy with a smile. The boy was just like that. He was genuinely as chivalrous and charming as a knight in shining armor. I thought it was funny when he said that Soda or Two-Bit made him think of the heroes he read about in stories, because to me, that was all Pony. He didn't even have to try. I liked to think it was his mama in him.

"Where are we headed to first, Lady of the List?" He asked pleasantly.

"Potatoes, then bread."

The grocery store was pretty quiet, only a few other families doing their shopping on a Monday afternoon. The grocery store closest to the school was a greaser hangout, but I didn't like to shop there. The prices were cheaper here. Big Girls Don't Cry by Frankie Valli played through the small, tinny speakers, and Ponyboy whistled along. When he put my ten pound bag of potatoes in the cart, he looked like he didn't have a care in the world.

My big brother made fun of me for how I grocery shopped, but we were broke, and I _really_ liked food. Those two things combined will have you second guessing everything you put in the buggy. It did take me forever to decide on what, exactly, was the absolute best for my buck, but I usually managed to get a good amount of stuff for cheap. That was why Mama fully entrusted the shopping to me when I was about ten.

I had my hands on my hips, analyzing different loaves of bread, when Ponyboy came and stood next to me in the exact same position. "Hmm... Tough call, huh? White or wheat?"

"It's always wheat, but don't tell Two-Bit that or he'd never eat it," I replied with a giggle. "I'm just tryin' to decide if I should get one or two."

"Well, how fast do y'all go through it? I know we're pretty crazy about sandwiches at my house."

"I like a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast every morning," I confessed, grabbing two loaves and putting them up front with my purse. I could put one in the fridge to keep it fresh longer while I ate on the other - as long as I hid it from my brother.

Pony gave me a funny look. "Just peanut butter? No jelly?"

"I hate jelly." My nose wrinkled immediately at just the thought. "All kinds. I don't like the way it feels."

"You're a strange one, you know that?" Ponyboy remarked, his eyes sparkling like the emerald pendant on Mama's one nice necklace.

"And yet here you are, grocery shopping with me," I pointed out brightly.

He grinned. "Nowhere else I'd rather be, Rosie. You should let me see your list though, since I'm the one steering this thing."

I obliged. He scanned over it quickly, lips coming up at the corners to form a smirk. "Gosh, you oughta make one of these for Sodapop next time he goes to buy food. You've got the prices on here and everything."

"I had to budget a little," I admitted. "Mama told me I could have what was left over for fabric to make some new dresses, since mine are so short now, so I was trying to save as much as I could. Come on down here, I need rice."

"How responsible." He was teasing, but his eyes were still lit up and his smile was more sympathetic as he followed me. "I don't know how you came from the same family as Two-Bit."

I snorted. "I'm responsible _because_ of Two-Bit. Mama can't send him shopping. All we'd have is beer and candy bars."

"He's gotten a little bit better," Pony pointed out with a laugh. "He finally made it to senior year, at least."

"Yeah, now let's just hope that he can graduate."

"Hey, does this say soup or soap?" Pony's voice was full of innocence and light, but still, I reached up to mess with his carefully greased hair. When I realized there was no sticky pomade on my fingers, it startled me.

"Glory, Ponyboy, your hair is softer than mine!" I proclaimed. At this point, I was running both of my hands through the long, reddish-brown strands, which covered his ears and eyes when pushed the right ways. "When did ya quit putting grease in it?"

That poor boy was as red as a tomato, and still smiling broadly at me. "Aw, quit it, Rosie. I just liked it better this way after it grew out last year. A lot of guys aren't doing it anymore."

"Careful, without all that grease, some of these Socy girls might not be able to tell the difference," I grinned wickedly as I led him onto the next aisle. (The list said soup.) "You could end up like Gatsby after all."

"You really didn't like The Great Gatsby?" Ponyboy asked me.

I put a few cans of Campbell's soup into the buggy, then tugged the cart and boy a few feet down the aisle to the canned vegetables. "Can I see my list again?"

"Sure." When Pony handed it to me, he met my eyes and gave me his biggest smile, the one that made his eyes crinkle up at the side. I had just been shivering, but it seemed awfully hot in the store all of the sudden.

It took so long to figure out exactly how many cans of green beans I needed, Ponyboy probably thought I was ignoring his question about Gatsby. But when I straightened up and handed the list back to him, I said, "I haven't read the book in a couple years, so I guess I might feel differently now, but no, I didn't really like it. Gatsby just sounded like a mean Soc, you know? He had all these parties for Daisy and tried to impress her instead of just saying 'Hey, I love you.'"

Ponyboy laughed at me, but not unkindly. I don't think the boy even knew how to be mean like that. "Do you really think it's that easy, Rosie?"

I knew damn well that it wasn't, because of Johnny Cade. But I'd never told Pony about any of that. I didn't intend to either, no matter how close we were.

I replied, "Of course not. It ought to be though. Maybe if he had actually gotten to know her, then it would've been easier."

"Sometimes that can make it even harder."

Before I could ask what he meant, Pony and I rounded the corner. He was looking at me, and nearly ran the buggy right into somebody else's. I was shocked to see none other than Jennifer Price, and her mother.

Jen was beautiful, maybe even prettier than Angela Shepard. She had natural golden blonde hair, eyes as blue as an Oklahoma summer sky, and two dimples that flashed every time she showed off her perfect teeth. Jennifer also came from a nicer home than anybody else we were friends with. They weren't rich or anything, but after her father got a new job last year, the Prices could afford to buy new dresses when Jen's got too short - she just chose to wear them that length.

"Hi, Jennifer, Mrs. Price," I said, keeping my voice much more chipper than I felt. I was distinctly aware of how her mother looked at Ponyboy's beat up leather jacket, his scuffed tennis shoes. As if there weren't a pile of greaser girls with red lips and big hair at her house every single weekend. "How are y'all?"

"Just fine, Rosalie, how are you?" Mrs. Price smiled a tight lipped, adult smile. There was a string of pearls around her throat that I'd never seen before.

"I'm good," I replied.

Ponyboy stepped forward, his hand extended. "I don't think we've met. I'm Ponyboy Curtis, a friend of Rosalie's. You must be Jennifer's mom."

Mrs. Price shook his hand, but from the look on her face, you'd have thought he was Frankenstein's monster. I couldn't help but think bitterly that she ought to see her own daughter's boyfriend. Curly Shepard made Pony look tame.

"Hey, do you want to go to the movies with me on Friday night, Rose?" Jennifer asked, her dimples on full display. She was probably thinking of Curly right then, little bitch. Jen had always liked the bad boys - first Dallas Winston, when we were in junior high, and now the kid brother of Tim Shepard. What would prim and proper Mrs. Price think of that?

"I don't think so," Her mother said quietly. When even Jen's eyes widened, the older blonde woman told her, "Come on, Jennifer, it's time for us to go."

And without another word, Mrs. Price quite literally turned her back on us, grabbing her daughter by the arm. Jen turned to give me a pleading look, but I turned away, back to my groceries. I didn't need her pity.

For a while, Ponyboy and I shopped in silence. He kept making this face, though, the one he got when he was trying to read me like one of his paperbacks. Normally, I didn't mind Pony's probing, but after ten minutes of this, I bristled.

"What?" I whirled around, holding a gallon of milk. "Why do you keep lookin' at me like that?"

Inexplicably, he just took the milk jug from my hands, set it down in the buggy, and then shrugged out of his jacket before offering it to me. When I hesitated, he said, "Put it on, Rosie, you're shivering up a storm."

He was right of course; in just my short dress, the refrigerated section had me feeling icy. But anger also made me shake, and I was still angry as I snapped, "Answer my question first."

With a sigh, Ponyboy came over and draped the jacket across my shoulders. Then he put placed his hands there, over top of the leather, keeping me where he could look me in the eye. "Rosie, I'm real sorry that Mrs. Price was rude to you. You can't let people like her bother you though."

I sputtered for a moment, unable to articulate all the thoughts swirling in my brain. Eventually, I got out, "What do you mean?"

"People judge based off looks," he explained patiently. "They shouldn't, but they do. Nothing you can do about that. You can prove their judgement wrong though. Gettin' angry just makes you look like the tough greaser they think you are."

I frowned. "I _am_ a tough greaser, though."

That made him chuckle. "Yeah, but you're also the smartest girl in your grade, and you're thoughtful, and funny. Don't ever think that a greaser is all that you are, Rosie."

He was still standing there with his hands on my shoulders. Even though I had grown, Pony was a couple inches taller than me; I had to look up to meet his green eyes. But then my gaze began to wander, over the shape of his cheekbones and jaw, his smooth skin marred only by the scar on his temple from getting jumped by Socs. Glory, I knew the boy was handsome, but had he always been this gorgeous?

Suddenly, Ponyboy stepped back and cleared his throat, releasing me to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. As soon as he reached the cart, he grabbed it with both hands.

"Where to now?" He asked, his voice tight and controlled. You could practically watch him put all of his thoughts away into a secret compartment, away from me and the rest of the world.

I sighed as I slipped my arms into the jacket properly. It was a hand me down from Soda and too big, the sleeves reaching down past the my fingertips. "You've got the list. What's next?"

He scanned the list, then looked over the contents of my buggy. "Just meat, I think."

"Alright."

Normally, I could deliberate over the ground beef and chicken for practically hours. However, both chilly and sweating in Ponyboy's jacket, at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there. I'd been told more than once that I had anger issues, and Pony acting all weird wasn't helping anything. It was a damn shame I hadn't thought to get another Kool off of Two-Bit before we left.

Bonnie wasn't even working when we got to the checkout. It was probably a good thing Mrs. Price had met Ponyboy instead of Two-Bit though. Pony just looked like a hood; Two-Bit really was one.

My mood lifted a little when the lady who did check us out said that my total was under fifteen dollars. Mama had given me a whole twenty. Still, I was quiet the whole time we loaded the groceries into the back, and once Pony got the car started, I turned the radio up loud, so he couldn't try to ask me any more questions. I just didn't feel like answering any of them.

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 **A/N:** Ah, to be going-on-fifteen and naive. How do you guys feel about this chapter? I also wanted to mention that I did make a slight change to the prologue to remove the mention of sexual assault, since there were a couple of complaints about it. Doesn't really change the plot or anything though. :) Please review!


	4. The Catcher in the Rye

**Chapter Three: The Catcher in the Rye**

"Darlin', you're not gonna believe this," Soda drawled, brown eyes dancing with glee as he wiped his hands on a rag, "but your big brother really did convince some gal to take him home. A good looking one, too!"

"She must have some kind of internal defects if she's going anywhere with Two-Bit Matthews," Steve snickered.

Ponyboy and I exchanged a bemused, exasperated sort of look. I should've known that as soon as Two-Bit joked about getting a ride home from the DX with a girl, he wouldn't be coming back with us. I truly don't understand how he picked up chicks with that mouth, but then again, life has lots of mysteries.

"Well, Pony, I hope you don't mind chauffeuring me around," I said, turning to give him a smile that I hoped was big enough to make up for my sour mood after the encounter with Mrs. Price.

"Y'all kids should stick around for another few minutes. I'm about to get off work, and I'd like to catch a ride," Sodapop said.

Pony raised an eyebrow. "I guess I'm everybody's chauffeur today."

"Shoot, kid, you ain't drivin' if I'm there. We don't need you gettin' caught by the fuzz," his brother told him sternly.

Steve chimed in, "Maybe Rose will sit in the backseat with ya and hold your hand."

Soda aimed a winked at me. I knew plenty of girls who would kill to get winked at by Sodapop Curtis, but I was not one of them. At that particular moment, I mostly wanted to clobber him.

When he saw the expression on my face, Soda reached into his pocket and pulled out a fresh pack of Kools. "Two-Bit told me to give these to you."

"Well, I'll be damned! My brother is good for something after all," I exclaimed. Though he didn't know it, that was one of the kindest things Two-Bit could've done for me that day. Gosh, but I needed a smoke. "Where'd he get these from?"

Soda grinned. "The drugstore across the street. He said he wouldn't steal from the establishment where two of his buddies were employed - but that was only 'cause Steve saw him and threatened to bust his head open."

Two-Bit thought he could take Steve, so I was a little surprised to hear that he backed down. It was probably a good thing though. Steve had a lot of raw anger, like me, and that makes you ruthless in a fight - even when you don't mean to be. The curly haired boy didn't move at the mention of his name, focused on the car in front of him.

I asked, "Ponyboy, you got a lighter in this jacket?"

The boy nodded, then said to Soda, "We'll wait at the car for ya, okay?"

"Y'all don't get into any trouble, now," his brother warned us with a wicked grin.

By now, the parking lot had cleared up quite a bit. A few other groups were still hanging around, but nobody we knew. Pony had found a parking spot away from all of them anyway. We leaned against the side of the car to smoke, catching the last bit of sun.

A lot of people thought it was funny, how good of friends me and Ponyboy were. Truthfully, I wouldn't have believed it myself a year and a half ago. But then, I also wouldn't have believed that Johnny was dead.

My brother wouldn't tell me much of anything when Johnny and Ponyboy ran away last fall. I knew that Johnny had killed a Soc, and then the two high tailed it to Texas, but that was all Two-Bit would say. I barely saw him that week anyway; he skipped school to stay with the Curtises. When I remembered that damn funeral, I wished I could've done the same. I couldn't even imagine how they felt.

School was horrible anyway. Even at my junior high, rumors were flying. Angela Shepard was telling folks that both boys would get the electric chair. All of my friends knew how I felt about Johnny, so they tried to keep the gossip away from me, but we went to a big school. All day for a week, all I heard was Johnny Cade's name. On top of all that, the rich kids were terrorizing the greasers even worse than before. Even Two-Bit got jumped. I thought things were just about as bad as they could get - and then Johnny didn't come home.

Honestly, I still don't really have the full story. I read the article in the newspaper about the burning church, how the boys saved those kids. All the paper said was that Johnny was in critical condition. I wanted to press my brother for more details, but I'd be mortified if knew how I pined for his buddy. Two-Bit was busy getting ready for a rumble with the Socs anyway. I desperately wanted to fight, to blow off some of the steam that felt like it was right below the skin, but I knew better than to ask.

That Saturday night, I watched the rumble from my bedroom window, chain smoking. I saw my big brother split his hand open, and Ponyboy nearly get stepped on by Tim Shepard. I also saw how easily Darry could handle those guys. When Dally Winston ran up, it felt like all the oxygen had left the room. Thank God he could help Ponyboy though.

When the Socs began to run away, I nearly cried with relief. I thought it was finally over. We won. I couldn't have been more wrong.

It happened late that night, past midnight. I had drank a couple cans of Two-Bit's beer to help me fall asleep, but it was a restless and uneasy slumber. Sirens startled me awake, what sounded like dozens of them, blazing away. I bolted straight to the window to see what was going on, still in my nightgown.

Dally was in the vacant lot. There were a whole pile of cops surrounding him, their weapons drawn. It occurred to me that Johnny must be dead if Dallas Winston had allowed the cops to catch him. Then Dally raised a heater and gunshots rang though the air. Dallas fell the same way that Johnny had when he got jumped. He would never get up though. And yet again, I watched it all.

I was kind of a mess after that, I guess. On the east side, you have to shut down your feelings a lot, and I was a pro at it. But I didn't know how somebody could just stop feeling this. I couldn't eat or sleep. I was smoking a pack a day and knocking the lights out of any girl who looked at me funny during lunch. By Wednesday afternoon, I hadn't slept more than six hours in four days, and I was practically delirious. I was in Two-Bit's room after school, trying to hunt down some liquor, when he caught me.

"Little-Bit, what on earth are you doing?" He asked, an eyebrow cocked.

I flushed bright red, dropping the pillow if been checking under. "Nothing," I mumbled abashedly. I tried to hurry out of the room, but he blocked the door.

"What are you looking for?" My big brother questioned. For once, he sounded dead serious.

I sighed. What was the point in lying, especially now? It's not like he could fault me for it. "Booze."

Without a word, Two-Bit pulled a flask out of his jacket pocket and handed it to me. I took several big swigs of whiskey before giving it back. Henry Matthews would've been proud.

"Come on," Two-Bit said. His voice was thicker than I'd ever heard it. "Let's go have a smoke."

My brother and I went and sat out on the front steps. He gave me one of his cigarettes, even though I had my own pack.

For a minute, Two-Bit just smoked and rubbed his face. I'd never seen him like this. One of his eyes was still bruised from the rumble, and he desperately needed a shave, a shower, and a good night's sleep. He settled for another dip into the flask before speaking.

"Listen, Little-Bit, Ponyboy Curtis ain't doing too good right now," he said slowly. "This stuff kind of messed him up, and he's sick from hidin' out too. He's gonna be okay, but he's gotta lay up for a while, ya dig?"

"Yeah. That's awful," I replied softly. I didn't understand exactly why Two-Bit was telling me this, but I did feel sorry for Ponyboy. If I was this upset, I didn't know how he was still functioning.

"Maybe you could go see him some time. Take a pile of books or somethin'. The kid loves those," Two-Bit told me.

"Why?" I asked incredulously. "I barely know Ponyboy."

My brother hesitated, hitting his cigarette. Finally, he looked at me with a small smile and answered, "I just think both of y'all could use a friend right about now. Do it for me, okay, kid?"

I thought about what Two-Bit said all day at school that Thursday. My brother and I weren't exactly close back then; we usually saw each other at breakfast every morning, but that was about it. He spent most of his time with his buddies and his blondes. At the time, I didn't get why he would even think to ask me that kind of favor. Eventually, though, I decided that I would go see Pony, if only because it must have been real important to Two-Bit for him to ask. Anyway, it's not like I had anything left to lose.

Back then, I usually walked with Carla in the afternoons to the elementary school to pick up her little sister, and then we all went to the Hendersons together. I walked straight home from school that day, alone. Completely disregarding the homework that I was supposed to do, I dumped my school bag on the bed and filled it with all of my favorite books. The bag was heavy; I'd been stealing books from the library since I was eight. I liked anything that took me out of my own head and put me into somebody else's.

As I made the short walk down to the Curtises, I passed by Carla's house. Her little sister Shelly waved at me from the front window, her face lit up like Christmas lights. Two teeth were missing from her smile, and it warmed my heart as I waved back. Seven year old Shelly Henderson is what gave me the courage to smile at Sodapop Curtis when he answered the front door.

Like I said, I didn't really hang around with my brother's buddies friends much. I hadn't even been to the Curtis house since their parents died. Soda was surprised to see me, but he smiled back. "Well, hi there, Rosalie. How are you?"

"I'm good," I replied cheerfully. "My brother told me Ponyboy isn't doing so great though. I brought him a bunch of books."

Sodapop's brown eyes softened, and he smiled even wider as he let me into the house. "I'm sure he'll be excited about that. I was just about to go to work and he was gonna be bored. I'll go tell him you're here real quick, okay?" He bubbled.

I stood in the Curtises living room for the first time in almost a year, picking at the hem of my skirt and looking at their furnishings out of the corner of my eye. It looked exactly the same as I remembered it, except now a picture of Mr. and Mrs. Curtis hung prominently over the television. I could hear Sodapop talk to his brother.

"Hey, Pony, Rosalie Matthews is here to see you. She says she brought books."

Pony was surprised too. "Two-Bit's kid sister?"

Sodapop lowered his voice, but I still caught every word. "Shoot, I wouldn't call her a kid any more. She's probably the same age as you. Pretty little thing, too. I don't know if I oughta leave the two of you alone..."

"Aw, quit it, Soda," Ponyboy grumbled. "I know who she is. You said she had books?"

"A whole bag full."

"Okay."

The older boy loped his way back to the living room. I played with the ends of my brown hair, pretending I hadn't heard their exchange. What on earth did that "I know who she is" mean?

"You can go on in. Listen, though." Soda glanced around and lowered his voice significantly. "Don't talk about Johnny or any of that, okay?"

That was just dandy with me. Still, I was feeling a bit more timid when I headed down the hallway myself.

I shouldn't have been, though; Ponyboy was sitting up and smiling widely when I walked in. He looked strange with his hair so short and so blonde, but I could still see why a few of the girls in my class harbored crushes on him.

"Hi," he said. "Sorry about the mess."

There were books everywhere, but it just looked like my room. I told him so as I sat down on an empty chair.

"You must've cleaned up a bit to bring me all them, then." He gestured towards my full book bag.

I hauled it up into my lap. "This really isn't much. I didn't know what you would like."

"Well, which one is your favorite?" Pony asked. His tone was pleasant and genuine.

As I searched through the bag, I bit my lip in concentration. I was aware that the boy in bed was studying me intently, and I tried not to wonder what he thought of me. Triumphantly, I finally retrieved The Catcher in the Rye.

"My real favorite is Jane Eyre, but that's kind of a girl book. You might like this one," I said, handing over the paperback.

Ponyboy's eyes widened. That was the first time I noticed them, a light, sparkling green. "I've always wanted to read that," he replied excitedly.

"Holden can be kind of annoying, but he's alright by the end," I assured him.

The boy flipped the book so that he could read the back cover, and it was my turn to study him. Of course I looked at his hair, greased back even in bed, the way his eyebrows furrowed as he read. Something about his face reminded me of his mother's though. Mrs. Curtis used to make me a chocolate cake for my birthday every year, November 11. I remembered that Dallas Winston's birthday was two days before mine, but she made both of us our own cakes, just like she did every child in our neighborhood. I also remembered the way that Pony tried so hard not to cry at their funeral. I could relate to that feeling now.

I couldn't save Johnny. Not anymore. But maybe I could help Ponyboy. He liked my books, at least.

I started going over to the Curtis house regularly after that. At first, I was just exchanging books with Ponyboy, but Sodapop immediately took a liking to me. He told me I could come by any time. Soda was warm and patient and asked me questions about school and my friends. I figured Two-Bit wouldn't like it, since he'd never let me hang around and he also spent most of his time over there, but it actually seemed like the opposite. For the first time in my life, I was buddies with my own big brother too. It was honestly one of the best things that had happened to me, and I had Ponyboy to thank for that. Hell, I had a lot to be grateful to Ponyboy for. I don't think I could've gotten past Johnny without him.

With that in mind, I nudged him gently. "Hey. I'm sorry I'm so grumpy sometimes."

He looked down and gave me a half smile. "As long as you ain't mad at me."

"Don't you know I can't ever be mad at you?" I replied with that Matthews wide grin.

Ponyboy shook his head and kicked at the ground, but he was smiling too. His ears were awful red.

We didn't talk as we finished our cigarettes and waited for Sodapop. It was a comfortable silence now though. All was right between us, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

 **A/N** : What do you think? Hopefully Rose and Pony's friendship makes more sense now, and hopefully it still feels realistic and in character. If you like the story, please leave a review and don't forget to favorite/follow! :)


	5. Great Expectations

**A/N** : Somehow, I accidentally posted chapter five instead of this one, and I didn't realize for several hours. Oops! Here's the correct chapter. Please review!

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Great Expectations**

Our mother made it a point to be home by six o'clock every morning so that she could get me and Two-Bit up for school. Come hell or high water, that bar would close at half past five so she could go home to see her babies. This meant that every morning of my life that I had school started the same way.

"Good morning, Rosalie Lucille," Mama chirped pleasantly, sitting on the edge of my bed. She had named me after her two favorite aunts, and so she often liked to call me by my first and middle name (or at least, that's what she told me).

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Call me a square, but I was always happy to see my mom. "Good morning. How was your night?"

"Oh, you know, just the regulars," she replied. She looked tired, her makeup smudged, but her blue eyes were warm. "How was school yesterday?"

"Good. We had a pop quiz in algebra, but I know I did real well on it," I reported back to her dutifully.

"Did you finish your science project yet?" She asked.

"No, but it's not due till Friday. Carla and I can probably work on it this afternoon." I swung my legs around the side of the bed so I could stand up and stretch.

"Good. Do that."

You might think that with her working at the bar so much, my mother wouldn't really pay attention to or even know what was going on with school or our lives. But she kept up with all of it - particularly mine. Mama let Two-Bit do whatever he wanted as long as he graduated eventually, but she stayed on me about my homework. Now that I was in high school, it was especially important that I get good enough grades, so maybe I could go to college one day. When my mom smiled at me, though, I wasn't bitter about any of this. I was just glad that everybody said we looked alike.

Mama stood up too. She came over and smoothed my hair before kissing me on the forehead. "Thanks for grocery shopping, honey. I'll fix you some coffee, okay?"

"Mmm. Thank you. I'll be there in a minute."

She left and headed for kitchen. I used the opportunity to get into the bathroom before Two-Bit was even awake. Glory, but it took that boy forever to grease his hair and admire his sideburns.

Admittedly, my own locks were so ratty from all the hairspray I used in yesterday's ponytail that I had no choice but to wash it. My hair was dark brown and thick, and I liked it long, at least to the middle of my back. It used to take forever to dry, but Mama got me a blow dryer last Christmas. Within half an hour, I was showered and fresh. The hair dryer made my strands look big and straight and shiny.

Next was makeup. I didn't cake on as much as Beth Davis or Angela Shepard, but I did like a little something every day. I kept it simple that morning: a cat eye, a little eyebrow pencil, pink lipstick, blush. A greaser girl going without eye makeup, even just for school, was like a greaser boy getting a Beatles haircut - a total social faux pas.

Mama had washed my favorite blue dress with the cap sleeves the day before, so I slipped it on. This one went well above my knee as well, but it looked nice with knee socks and my black Mary Janes with the little heel. It also complemented my eyes, which were caught somewhere between Mama's sky blue and Dad's stormy grey.

After getting ready, I went into the kitchen. Two-Bit was already sitting at the table, devouring a plate of fried eggs. His rusty hair was shiny with grease, and he reeked of cheap cologne. I grinned at the sight of him. Breakfast was my favorite, just because of this.

"So who'd you get a ride home from last night, big brother?" I asked him wickedly as I got my mug out of the cupboard. "You were out awful late."

"Wanda Idelmann," he boasted. "I had originally planned on Sharon Davis, 'cause she's the sister of one of your little friends and I figured that'd tick you off. But Wanda was real persistent."

While he spoke, I poured myself a large cup of coffee, to which I then added a very healthy amount of sugar (several spoonfuls). I turned around to address him when I was done. "Sharon Davis has been dating Raymond Jones for months now. Even you don't stand a chance. It's a good thing Wanda intervened, 'fore you embarrassed yourself."

"You underestimate the power of the Matthews grin, little darlin'," he said, flashing me one now. "Hell, if you knew how to use it right, you wouldn't be datin' one of Shepard's boys."

Mama, scrambling her own eggs, whirled around at that, waving her spatula at me. "Rosalie Lucille! Who are you dating, young lady?"

"I have been on exactly two dates with Frank Sullivan," I huffed. So she couldn't give me a dirty look, I buried my face back in the cabinet, this time hunting peanut butter. Thank god she didn't know about my fling with Eddie Washington last year - or Johnny.

"Are you going out with him this weekend?" Two-Bit inquired.

Jennifer did say something about the movies Saturday night. Even if her mom said no at the time, I knew Jen usually did what she wanted. I squirmed, no choice but to turn around with the jar of Jiffy as I said, "I don't know. Probably."

"Rose, honey, why don't you date a nice boy?" Mama asked. From the pure sweetness in her voice, I knew my mother had no idea what the dating scene was like for teenage greasers in Tulsa.

"Where, exactly, do you expect me to find one of those?" I scowled as I pulled two slices of bread from the bag.

There was a knock at the door. Two-Bit, now done with his eggs, got up to answer it. A moment later, he reappeared with Ponyboy.

"You really do eat a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast, don't you?" The green eyed boy said immediately upon entering the kitchen.

"Since she was a little kid," Mama beamed.

"Did you come here just to mock my breakfast choices?" I asked. Normally, we stopped and picked Pony up on the way to school.

"No. Darry had to work early, so him and Soda were already gone. I just got bored and walked down here," the boy told me sensibly.

"Have you eaten yet?" Mama asked. "I've got plenty of eggs."

"Yes ma'am, I have. Thank you though."

My mother gave me a significant look as she plated her own breakfast, but I ignored her. Instead, I took a sip of coffee, then a bite of my sandwich. It was perfection, damn it.

"Hurry up, Little-Bit," my brother said. He smiled pleasantly to let me know that he wasn't really annoyed with me though. Two-Bit had been driving me to school since last winter (he claimed it wasn't safe for a girl to be walking, but I knew better - he never worried about that before Johnny died) and he learned pretty quick that I didn't like to be late. That might just be the only reason he actually made it to his senior year.

As Mama sat down and began to eat, she questioned, "How are you, Ponyboy? I don't think I've seen you since school started."

"I'm good," Pony told her. "I've got all As in school right now, and I'm about to start track again. How have you been?"

"Oh, the same as usual. Thank you for asking though," she smiled.

"How are you gonna get home when track starts, Pony?" I inquired. "You know I don't like the idea of you walking."

"Don't worry, Darry usually gets me on his way home from work," the boy assured me.

As soon as I took the last bite of my sandwich, Mama began rushing us out the door. She reminded me about my science project again before telling us all to have a good day.

"Boy," Pony remarked as we climbed into the car. "She stays on you about your grades, huh?"

"I'm not the smartest girl in my grade by accident, that's for sure."

We rode with the windows down so we could smoke cigarettes on the way to school. The way Two-Bit sped, it only took about one smoke's worth of time to get there.

I had just closed the car door behind me when I heard a loud, shrill call of "Rose Matthews!" Jennifer Price was with Curly and Frank, the top of her hair so shellacked that it didn't move as she jumped up and down and waved at me.

"See you later, Rosie," Pony said softly as I headed towards my other friends. I smiled and gave him a wink from over my shoulder.

Jennifer was wearing a tight black blouse with a yellow skirt that ended well above the knee. Still, with her long blonde hair curled into a high ponytail, she looked pretty and mischievous. She was grinning widely as I walked up.

"Boy, you sure do see a lot of Ponyboy Curtis, don't you?" Jen commented immediately, a devilish look in her eye.

I flushed. "Me and my brother give him rides to school. He lives in my neighborhood."

"Is that why he was with you at the grocery store yesterday?" She questioned.

Frank frowned at me. "Hey, you shouldn't be alone with some other guy."

I didn't like Frank telling me what to do, but from the warning look Jennifer gave me, I knew better than to talk back. Instead, I sidled up next to the hood and smiled at him.

"Don't be sore," I said. "Aren't you the one takin' me out this Saturday night?"

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Yeah, I am."

The bell rang, and the four of us headed to class. Jen asked Curly, "What are we doing this weekend, baby?"

The dark haired boy grinned wickedly. "Y'all are gonna tell your mamas that we're goin' to the Nightly Double. Terry Jones is having a party and he always has booze."

Jenny winked at me. She loved to drink. Probably because of my father, I had a good tolerance for alcohol, and I never got sick the way some girls did, but I didn't want to make a habit of it. Two-Bit wasted all of his money on beer. The occasional party was fun though. I shot her a grin back.

Frank's homeroom was the first out of everybody's. I kissed him on the cheek before he went in, mostly to placate both him and Jennifer. I really didn't want any bullshit over Ponyboy.

But you know, you don't always get what you want.


	6. Guys and Dolls

**Chapter Five: Guys and Dolls**

Jennifer and I had homeroom together. That girl spent the entire fifteen minutes that we were supposed to be listening to announcements debating what to wear to the party, in a loud, carrying voice that the whole room could hear. I knew as soon as she started that Jen probably already had her outfit picked, but that wasn't the point. She just wanted everybody to know that Curly Shepard was taking her to Terry Jones's that weekend. Jennifer didn't make very good grades, but she was damn sure smart (when she wanted to be).

After her debacle, my classes seemed to drag. Mornings were usually my favorite part of the day, with honors US history, honors English, and theater for my first three lessons. Maybe I put too much sugar in my coffee or something, but that morning, I just couldn't focus on anything. Ten minutes felt like ten years.

I was lost in thought, trying to think of a way to leave the party early on Saturday night, when my history teacher called my name. From her tone of annoyance, it must not have been the first time.

"Yes, Mrs. Cullifer?" I asked meekly.

"Have you been paying attention, Miss Matthews?" She asked sharply. Mrs. Cullifer was a young woman, maybe in her 30s, but she looked fierce and shrewd beyond her years. The woman had a passion for history, let me tell you.

"Yes ma'am," I lied.

"Who was the first person to sign the Declaration of Independence then?"

Shit. I should've known that one. "Um... George Washington?"

Mrs. Cullifer frowned, and the class snickered. Because it was honors, there were a whole lot of rich kids in here, more than a few of them looking at me like gum at the bottom of their shoe. My face burned. God, I desperately wanted a cigarette - and to talk to Carla Henderson.

Carla had been my best girl friend for my almost entire life. Born only three months before her, our mothers started arranging play dates when we were still in diapers. Now at fourteen, she was pretty, with big brown eyes and long light brown hair. Her personality made her the most beautiful girl in the world to me though. Carla had three little siblings, the youngest only a year old. Because of this, she was not only very responsible, but also patient and kind. Nobody listened to me the way Carla did, not even Soda or Ponyboy.

We had theater together third period, but Mrs. Lowenthal kept everybody busy. We were putting on Guys and Dolls next month. I was one of the Hot Box Girls, practicing A Bushel and A Peck over and over again behind Audrey Johnson, a bossy senior. Carla was working on sets. I didn't get a chance to talk to her at all during class. As soon as the bell rang, though, dismissing us for lunch, I hurried over to my friend.

"Hey Rose," she smiled, her book bag already on her shoulder. "What's your rush?"

I tried to keep my voice casual as I said, "No reason. Are you doin' anything after school today?"

"Nothing really. Mom's off, so she's watching the kids. What did you have in mind?"

The theater had a door that released us directly outside. I blinked in the bright sunlight before responding. "I was thinkin' we could go over to Vernon's and get some fabric. Mama gave me $5, we could both get a couple of new things out of that."

"I've got $3 worth of babysitting money," said Carla.

I smiled at her, feeling better already. Like I said, Carl always got me.

Greasers still went to the closest grocery store for lunch. There just wasn't enough room in our cafeteria, and anyway, the food was awful. It wasn't too far of a walk, but it was much easier if you could catch a ride. Usually, Beth Davis's sister Sharon offered to take us. Her gang of friends, all older, rode there with somebody's boyfriend. Nancy Aberdeen and Beth were both waiting already at the car, chatting about the latest Elvis movie. Beth's bleached blonde hair was probably two inches off of her head, but it still wasn't bigger than her chest. Her red sweater strained across it.

"Hi y'all," Nancy said when we walked up. I liked Nancy. She was poorer than the rest of us, and Jennifer sometimes made fun of her for being a square, but she was real nice.

"Hey, Nance," Carla replied. "How was biology this morning?

The other girl rolled her brown eyes. "Mrs. Kirkham is the absolute worst teacher ever. The project isn't even due till Friday but she gave us a quiz today!"

"Is she giving out bonus points for the project if you finish early?" I asked.

"I think so."

Beth groaned. "I haven't even started mine."

"Who are you partnered with?" Carla questioned sympathetically.

"Valerie O'Brien," she pouted. Valerie was Angela Shepard's best friend. They were both tough and pretty and loud, yet Valerie still did whatever Angela told her to. I'd tussled with the girl more than once. Angela and her girls had never liked us, even though we dated their boys. Maybe that's why.

"At least it's somebody from our side of town," said Nancy. "I've got Deborah Monticello, that cheerleader? We're just meeting after school in the library, 'cause I'm not going to her house, and she sure ain't coming to mine."

Being partnered with Socs on school projects wasn't exactly fun or easy for us greaser girls. It happened to me a lot because I was in a couple of honors classes. Sometimes, they'd expect you to do the entire project by yourself; others, they'd act like you were too stupid to be any help. I'd usually met mine in the library too (if we did actually the work together). The West side wasn't safe for a greaser, and the Socs were scared of the East. A few of our guys would knock around a Soc if they were spotted on our territory, but most of them didn't want those rich bitches calling the fuzz.

Sharon and her boyfriend Ray showed up then, so we all climbed into the little beat up car. Ray drove, an arm around the older girl in the middle, with Beth on the other side. The rest of us just piled into the back together. Sharon and I were the only ones with our own pack of cigarettes, but Carla and Nancy didn't smoke anyway. I split one with Beth while the happy couple passed theirs back and forth. Ray sang along to the radio obnoxiously.

When we arrived at the grocery store, Ray and Sharon went to go find her friends. Jennifer appeared in an instant, Curly and Frank trailing behind her. Glory, did she go anywhere without them?

Jen put a hand on her hip and grinned at us. "So. Who else wants to go to a party at Terry Jones' this weekend?"

"I'm babysitting," Carla replied breezily.

Jenny frowned at her. "You don't even know what day it is."

"Well, either way, I'm babysitting," she shrugged. Carla had never really been intimidated by Jen - or any other girl.

"I already know you won't come," Jennifer huffed at Nancy. The girl practically wilted at Jen's harsh tone. "Beth, what about you?"

"I don't have a date."

"Curly, baby, you got any other friends?" Jennifer asked.

The blue eyed hood wrapped his arms around her from behind as he leered at Beth. "For her? I sure do."

"Problem solved," Jen said cheerfully. "Rose, me and Beth will meet you at your place around five to get ready, okay?"

I nodded, avoiding Carla's hazel eyes. She could badger me about why I hung out with people I didn't like when we went to Vernon's later. I wasn't prepared for it just yet.

"You want a Pepsi?" Frank asked me.

Jennifer and Beth both giggled as I stepped forward and said, "Sure."

The buff boy put his arm around my shoulder as we walked across the parking lot together. I knew what he was doing, and he got exactly he wanted out of it; all of the greasers watched us as we passed, then turned to whisper to their friends. When I noticed Ponyboy and Two-Bit, smoking cigarettes by my brother's car, I stared straight ahead at the store like I'd never seen something so fascinating in my entire life. I didn't want to see their faces. I didn't have to look to know that they wouldn't approve of me being paraded around as Frank Sullivan's property. Hell, I didn't like it either, but what could I do?

I'd gotten in one serious argument with Jennifer in all the years I'd known her. It was seventh grade. Her boyfriend, Michael Buchanan, dumped her, then asked me out a week later. I didn't even say yes, but Jen was furious. She spread a rumor that I was pregnant, telling multiple girls that the baby was their boyfriend's. I got in so many fights those few weeks. I wish Jennifer would just throw a few punches at me, because I could handle that, any day. But Jen was smarter than that, and meaner. She'd just make everybody hate you as much as she did.

So I let Frank buy me a Pepsi and Hershey's bar, even though he smelled like beer and cheap cologne. There were worse things.

xxxxx

Ponyboy didn't have a book this time as he waited for me outside of my algebra class. He did have a frown on his face though, one that was visible as soon as I stepped out of the door.

"What's wrong?" I asked immediately. Honestly, from his expression alone, I worried that something had happened to Two-Bit for a hot second.

"Nothin'," he replied gruffly. Immediately, he began to stare at his shoes, hiding his eyes.

I heaved a big sigh. I was in no mood. "Pony, please tell me what's wrong with you. You look like a kid that just dropped his ice cream cone."

The boy looked up to scowl at me, his eyebrows furrowed together. "I don't know what you're talkin' about, Rosie."

"Really, Ponyboy?" I ran a hand through my hair impatiently. Gosh, but he could be stubborn sometimes. "You know what? I'll just get it out of you later. But tell Two-Bit that I'm walkin' home with Carla, alright?"

The boy's frown deepened. He was still handsome, even when pouting. "He ain't gonna like you walking."

"Which is why you're telling him, and not me," I replied brightly. I reached up to squeeze his arm before I walked away. "Cheer up, Pony. I'll see you around."

Despite my cavalier tone, my chest felt heavy as I left him standing there. I hated when Ponyboy got all strange and moody like that. It happened from time to time though. He'd tell me when he felt like it - or he wouldn't. It was awfully hard to persuade Pony into something he didn't want to do. The boy was hard headed.

Carla was just a few feet up ahead, walking towards my classroom. She grinned widely when she spotted me, and I was glad for at least one happy, familiar face.

When I caught up with her, Carl scrutinized me, the very same thing I'd done to Ponyboy only moments ago. "Are you alright, Rose?"

I linked my arm through hers and smiled reassuringly. "We'll talk at Vernon's."

Carla gave me another look, but said nothing else as we left the din of the school hallway, into the cool fall afternoon.


	7. Downtown

**Chapter Six: Downtown**

Vernon's was a little clothing store downtown, only about a ten minute walk from the high school. It had been nearly half an hour away from the junior high on foot, but Carla and I had been going since we were in sixth grade. Hazel Vernon, the shop's owner, was in her seventies, and her only daughter Mary was old enough to have kids of her own. Mrs. Vernon made a killing out of sewing custom dresses for Socs and rich ladies. Those girls would pay big bucks for something pretty, and then Mrs. Vernon would turn around and sell the scraps, left over fabric, and unwanted clothes for cheap. Because Carla and I were such frequent customers, she usually gave us really good deals. Thank goodness, too - otherwise we would've never been able to keep up with the Jennifer Prices of the world.

The minute we were off school property, I lit another cigarette. Boy, I was gonna tear through my pack at this rate - it was only yesterday that Soda gave them to me, and already, there was just over half of them left. I made a mental note to stop by a drugstore and swipe another one on the way home, just in case.

"So, party at Terry Jones', huh?" Carla asked, giving me a dirty sidelong look.

"I guess so," I replied reluctantly. I already knew what she was going to say; this wasn't the first time we'd had this conversation, or one similar to it.

Right on cue, my best friend, clearly exasperated, said, "Why do you go to things like that, Rosalie?"

I took a drag off my cigarette and exhaled smoke before answering. "I don't know. I don't really have a whole lot of say in the matter. I'm the one that Jen wants to double date with. Hell, I'm just surprised that she didn't pick Beth first. She's prettier than me."

"Beth is not prettier than you, Rose, she just has a bigger chest," said Carla indignantly.

"Carl, to most of these greaser guys, that means prettier."

She frowned. "You listen to Jennifer too much."

I didn't say anything for a few minutes, finishing up my smoke. Carla was protective of me, I knew, the same way she was over her eight year old sister Shelly - and for much of the same reasons. Carl was always getting angry at Jennifer, often because of how she treated me. I didn't like it either, but what do you do when you've been friends for all your life? Carla would cool down in a minute. She always did.

It was half past three o'clock, and the afternoon was cooling down itself. We were lucky; on a Tuesday, nobody was really cruising around. Even if nobody tried to mess with us or anything, two greaser girls walking alone were bound to at least get cat-called. Lord, I couldn't wait to make longer dresses.

When I spoke again, I changed the subject. "How is Ben doing in kindergarten? I know he had a rough first week."

Just as I'd hoped, Carla laughed. She always liked talking about her siblings. "That child is such trouble. Even his teachers say he's smart as hell, but he don't listen to a word they say."

"That sounds like Ben," I chuckled. "I'm sure Shelly is bringing home glowing reports."

"Oh, always. Except the other kids tease her for bein' the teacher's pet."

I loved Carla's family. Shelly was brilliant and precocious, Ben a tornado, and baby Vicky was just about the cutest thing I'd ever seen. Her parents still loved each other, even if they both had to work to support their kids. It didn't seem like such a bad way to live though.

"The kids have been askin' about you," Carla told me.

"I'm sorry," I said earnestly. "I would've stopped by over the weekend, but Jen had me busy on Saturday and I went to see the Curtises on Sunday."

"How is Ponyboy?"

I frowned. "I don't know. He was fine yesterday when he took me to the grocery store, but today he looked like someone had stolen his dog or somethin'."

"Did Two-Bit really make Pony take you to the store?" Carla asked, smirking in amusement.

"Yes! He said he didn't want to get Bonnie fired. Can you believe him?" I laughed. We reached the front door of the shop, the small pane of glass covered in pink fliers and posters.

"Because it's your brother, I can," she chuckled as she pulled open the door.

As soon as we stepped foot inside, I called out, "Hi Mrs. Vernon! It's Carla and Rose!"

The small, white haired woman appeared out from behind shelf, piled high with different colors of fabrics. "Girls!" She cried delightedly. "Oh, I have things to show you!"

Carla and I exchanged grins. This was the best part of coming to Vernon's.

Mr. Vernon had been a banker. When he passed away fifteen years ago, he left his wife a substantial amount of money, which she used to open the store. It was small, and the walls painted red and pink sometimes made it feel claustrophobic, but it still was one of my favorite places in the world. I was already in a better mood than I had been all day as I eyed the pretty laces and lush velvets wistfully.

When Mrs. Vernon reappeared, I could just barely see the top of her beehive hairdo over the pile of clothes and fabric in her arms. She dropped them on the counter dramatically, her blue eyes sparkling.

"What's all this?" Carla asked with a laugh.

"Back to school season!" The old woman exclaimed. "All the things that the girls didn't like, or couldn't fit. I'm sure I have several things for both of you..."

Mrs. Vernon began handing us clothes faster than we could look at them, shooing us behind various partitions she had set up around the store to try things on.

"Does this look alright?" I asked Carla, gesturing to a black button down blouse (not unlike the one Jennifer had been wearing that day - though mine wasn't as tight).

"It's great," my friend beamed. "And you can wear it with all kinds of stuff if you keep it clean. What about this?"

She did a quick spin for me. The olive green, long sleeve shift dress looked gorgeous against her brown hair and freckled skin. I grinned. "Absolutely."

A few minutes later, Mrs. Vernon, now perched behind the counter as we dressed, again and again, inquired, "How have you girls been? How is school? You're in high school now, aren't you?"

"Yes ma'am," Carla replied, her voice muffled as she pulled a blouse off. "Freshman year. It's not much different than junior high, just bigger."

"Rosalie, what do you think of school?" The woman asked me.

I stepped out from behind the pretty, pink partition, wearing a red dress with a matching belt to tie around the waist. Putting a hand on my hip, I tapped my chin like I was in deep though before declaring with a giggle, "Too many boys!"

Carla laughed. "You might be the only girl I know who isn't excited to have a date Saturday night."

"Who are you dating?" Mrs. Vernon asked eagerly. "Is he handsome?"

"Frank Sullivan. He's not bad looking, I guess."

My tone must have been less than enthused because Mrs. Vernon questioned gently, "What's wrong with him then?"

"I don't know." I threw my hands in the air in frustration. "I can't put my finger on it. I don't have a problem with him, I just don't have feelings for him either, and I don't know why."

From behind a partition where I couldn't see her face, Carla asked tentatively, "Is it because of Johnny?"

If anyone else brought up Johnny Cade, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, but here at Vernon's, all conversation was safe. I had told the elderly woman about my feelings for Johnny before he died, and she was one of the only people I'd talked to about it afterwards. Carla could also get away with it in the confines of Mrs. Vernon's maroon walls.

"Not really, not anymore," I said slowly to my two attentive listeners, toying with the belt on the red dress. "I still think about him sometimes but... I was a kid, you know? We didn't really know each other, aside from me cleaning him up and him spending the night on my couch. I was just so obsessed with him."

"Well, you wanted to help the boy," Mrs. Vernon said reassuringly. "Nothing wrong with that. What about Ponyboy, the one that you're friends with now?"

Carla paused, listening for my response. I went back behind a partition to change, and to play dumb. "What about him?"

"Do you... do you think maybe he's the reason you're not interested in Frank?" My friend asked. "Maybe you want to date him instead."

A lot of people speculated about me and Ponyboy, but we had always just been friends. The boy was a gentleman too. He'd never done more than put an arm around me, and even then, I could count the number of times that that happened. We never talked about that kind of thing, not even to discuss the rumors.

Did I want to date Ponyboy? Lately, I couldn't help but notice how handsome he was, and how sweet. That was just because we were best friends though... right?

My face burned as I slipped back into my own blue dress. "I don't know. Frank did tell me today that he doesn't like me hangin' out with Pony."

Carla huffed. "Does he know how you and Ponyboy became friends? How much the Curtises mean to you?"

"Of course not, Carl. All Frank knows is that I'm friends with Jennifer and I look good in red lipstick," I replied, pulling on my socks and then my shoes.

Mrs. Vernon spoke up again. "Rosalie, dear, a relationship should be more than that."

"Not when you're a freshman at Will Rogers High School," I grumbled. Now fully dressed, I wandered back out, looking at spools of fabric.

Carla reappeared, her light brown hair messy and her cheeks flushed. "How much for this stuff, Mrs. Vernon?"

"For you girls, a quarter apiece," the old woman replied warmly. "I'd give them to you for free, but so many more people are shopping at department stores these days..."

"No, thank you!" I exclaimed. "That's so nice of you. We really appreciate it, Mrs. Vernon."

Her face was lit up like a Christmas tree. "It's the least I can do for you two."

By the time we were done, Carla and I both had two bags bulging with different colored dresses, skirts, blouses, sweaters. It then took another twenty minutes to extract ourselves from conversation. My best friend and I waved goodbye to the sweet old lady around five o'clock.

We still had a few dollars left, so we stopped by the DX on the way home for a Pepsi. Soda had already gone home, but Steve Randle was there, and he offered to drive us over to Carla's when he got off at six. It was probably just because my big brother would bust his head in if Steve let us walk home, but I was still grateful. I had just enough time to cross the street and swipe another pack of Kools from the drugstore before it was time to go.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hi guys! I figured I'd post this as soon as possible, because some fun stuff is coming up in the next few chapters, and I'm so excited to share. Please review/favorite/follow! :)


	8. Sense and Sensibility

**Chapter Seven: Sense and Sensibility**

Steve Randle might be the only boy in our neighborhood who didn't drive everywhere he went like he was being chased by the devil himself. He liked his car too much. As a result, it was already a quarter past six when Carla and I walked through her front door.

Immediately, we were bombarded by the kids. Shelly and Ben both had to hug me and show me their homework and talk to me about school for a good twenty minutes before Carla and I could start on our project. I didn't mind though; I remembered when both of those kids were born. They were like my siblings too.

Finally, Mrs. Henderson told Shelly and Ben to let us do our own homework. Our biology teacher Mrs. Kirkham had put everybody in our class into pairs to draw and describe different parts of the cell. Carla and I were assigned the Golgi apparatus. It was a funny looking thing, all folded up like a roast beef sandwich. I sure was glad that Carla and I just so happened to be partnered together, because I was a horrible artist. Thankfully, Carl was not.

We sat at her kitchen table while she drew the lines. The agreement was that I would help color them in, and write the description of its parts. Shelly and Ben still bounced all around us, asking a million questions, somehow never running out of energy or inquiries. I couldn't even answer them as fast as they asked.

"What's high school like?"

"Are the big kids mean?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Mom!" Carla hollered, slamming down her pencil. "Please tell these heathens to leave me alone!"

Mrs. Henderson appeared in the back doorway, looking thoroughly unamused, baby Vicky on her hip. She had been on the back porch, smoking a cigarette while her casserole was in the oven. "Michelle. Benjamin. Outside. Now."

Shelly and Ben started to protest, but with one more glowering look from their mother, the two kids left, heads hung and tails between their legs. Carla beamed. "Thanks, Mama!"

"Now you can finish your project before your father gets home at 7:30, Carla Anne. We're having a family meal," Mrs. Henderson said sternly.

When her mother closed the door again, giving us another scathing glare, Carla rolled her hazel-brown eyes and picked the pencil up again. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Is everything okay, Carl?" I asked cautiously. "Your mama usually ain't so strict, especially about 'family meals'."

She shrugged. "I don't know. Daddy has to work a lot more now to afford the baby. They weren't exactly plannin' on her, you know. And Mama ain't used it to just yet. She should be fine though."

I didn't say anything. What could you say? Instead, I just watched my friend for a minute, the way her eyes and hands moved so intently. Ponyboy looked like he was in another world when he drew; Carla never seemed more present. It was strange to me that more guys didn't ask Carl out, since she was so gorgeous. Maybe they could just sense that she wouldn't waste a minute of her time.

On a separate piece of paper, I wrote out the descriptions that Mrs. Kirkham wanted. Carla hated doing essays anyway. By the time I finished that, she had completed the outline. We colored quickly, and without much conversation, so we could get done by seven. I helped her clean up all the colored pencils and stuff, then said my goodbyes.

"Bye Rosalie!" Shelly cried before I could walk out of the door. She threw her arms around me, so small that she only just reached my chest. "Come see me again soon, okay?"

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Okay, Shelly, I will."

"And then we can go see Sodapop!"

Her mother admonished her, but I was laughing as I waved and stepped out into the street. Going down to the Curtis house didn't seem like a bad idea - but not for Soda. Pony never did tell me what was bothering him earlier, and I knew he wouldn't say anything in front of Two-Bit on the way to school tomorrow morning.

Within a few minutes, I found myself knocking on their front door. Darry was already smiling when he answered, 'cause I was the only one who ever knocked. "Come on in, Rosalie."

I grinned back at him as I stepped inside. "Thanks. How ya been, Superman? You ain't been working yourself too hard, have you?"

"Naw," he shook his head, beaming widely. It had taken a lot longer to win Darry over than the other two, but it had been well worth it. He loved me now. "These kid brothers of mine would beat my head in if I did that."

"Sure would," Soda replied cheerfully from the couch. "Hey, Rose."

"Hey y'all," I said, glancing around the room. Steve and Two-Bit were sitting next to the blonde, watching TV, but Pony was nowhere to be found.

As if he could read my mind, my own brother smirked and said, "The kid is in his room readin', if that's who you're looking for."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised," I chuckled, turning for hallway.

Behind me, I heard Soda quip to the boys, "Neither am I."

The door was open, but I still knocked gently against the wood. The boy was known for getting pretty wrapped up in his books; I didn't want to scare him this time. "Hey Pony, it's me."

For a minute, he looked just like he had when we first met; leaned up against the headboard, book in hand, too dreamy to be true. Then he looked up at me with a smile and my stomach turned over. It occurred to me that a lot could change in a year.

"Rosie! What are you doing here?" He asked excitedly, dog earring the page he was on and sitting the book down. He was reading Gone with the Wind.

"I wanted to come see you," I told him simply. "You never told me what was wrong earlier."

"I didn't want to bother you," he said, biting his lip immediately afterwards. I watched his mouth for just a second too long when he did.

Lord, I was going to kill Carla Henderson. It was all her fault that I was thinking like this, her and her gentle questions that she somehow always already knew the answer to.

I tried not to let any of that show as I said, "Pony, you're never a bother. Do you want to come outside and smoke and talk with me about it?"

He smiled again, the corner of his eyes crinkling up. "Yeah. I'd like that a lot."

We had to pass by Darry, Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit to get to the front door. Naturally, the eldest of the gang asked, "Where are you two going?"

"Just sittin' outside, having a smoke."

Darry eyed the both of us. I knew he thought I was very responsible, and even Darry'd admit that Pony used his head a bit more now. So it wasn't a surprise when he smiled and nodded. As for my own brother - well, I just avoided his grey eyes.

I pulled the Kools out of my purse as soon as the front door shut behind us, grateful that the other boys wouldn't hear us over the television. We sat down on the steps. I stuck my own cigarette in my mouth, unlit, as I pulled one out for Ponyboy. The mahogany haired boy stuck his Zippo out, setting the tip of my smoke on fire. He did this often, but it never occurred to me before that his hands were awfully close to my face. Only after he lit his own did Ponyboy speak.

"I'm real sorry if I worried you earlier, Rosie," he told me, his voice low. "I didn't even realize that I was in a bad mood till you said something. It's just that... Saturday was a year since Bob died."

I took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling sort of like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on me or something. What an idiot I was, for not remembering and for not pressing him more earlier. I was supposed to be a better friend than that. "I'm so sorry, Ponyboy. Why didn't you say anything when I was here on Sunday? I knew it was around this time of year, but I didn't know the dates."

For a hot, painful second, I was thirteen again, smoking cigarettes out of my bedroom and trying to cry quietly, so Two-Bit and Mama didn't hear. Maybe if I hadn't lost my damn mind when Johnny died, I would've known what day it was. God almighty, I felt sick with shame all over again.

"It's okay, Rosie. I didn't really start thinking about it myself till today. But now I can't quit thinking about it. You know, this Sunday, it'll have been a year since Johnny and Dally passed," Pony continued. "A whole year. Can you believe it?"

I couldn't. It seemed like just yesterday, and also a million years ago. I took a big drag of off my cigarette, thinking, before slowly replying, "Well... I guess that also means that next Friday will be a whole year since you and me became friends, then, huh?"

Ponyboy turned to look at me, and his green eyes were so alive, so vibrant that I stopped worrying about anything else. He gave me his biggest smile. "Yeah. I guess it does."

Without thinking, I scooted a little bit closer to the boy. He glanced at me surreptitiously before putting his arm around my shoulder. When Frank did that, it was hot and suffocating. Pony felt real nice though. Underneath the cigarette smoke, he smelled sweet, like sugar and chocolate; he must've made a cake earlier. I liked that, almost as much as I liked knowing why.

"Can I be honest with you, Rosie?" Pony asked, interrupting my train of thought.

My heart began to pound so hard that surely he could hear it, sitting that close to me, but I said, "Sure."

"I don't like you datin' that guy."

I just looked at Ponyboy, really looked at him - maybe for the first time. Those light grey-green eyes, his long copper colored hair, the curve of his bottom lip. I could count the handful of freckles dotted on his face from how close we were, but he didn't look away, and neither did I. The boy's expression was so guarded, and yet so honest somehow. I was reminded of Carla's question earlier: what if Ponyboy was the reason I wasn't happy with Frank? Did I want to be more than just friends? Did he?

I managed to breathe out, "I don't think I like me datin' him either."

Ponyboy opened his mouth, but before he could say another word, the front door slammed open. Two-Bit stood above us, an absolute shit eating grin on his face. "Oh, sorry, kids. Am I, uh... interrupting something?"

Me and Pony both scrambled to stand up. I brushed dirt off the bottom of my dress as I grumbled, "Shut up, Keith."

Surprised by the use of his first name, my brother merely raised his eyebrow and said, "I was just gonna offer you a ride home."

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you later, Ponyboy."

I rushed into Two-Bit's car to avoid the catching Pony's eye. God almighty, what would have happened if my brother hadn't come out there? What, exactly, did I want to happen, anyway? Oh lord, maybe Carla _was_ right. I mean, I had always thought Pony was handsome, and smart, and thoughtful, and sweet, and...

Oh glory.

Two-Bit said goodbye to Pony then got in the car. As soon as we had pulled out of the Curtis' driveway, he raised an eyebrow again. "You and Ponykid seem awful close."

"I thought I said to shut up," I growled.

"Fine, fine, I'll leave it alone." He threw his hands up in defeat, making us swerve a little. "Just be fair to him, ya dig?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. I didn't have an answer to that - or anything else, apparently.


	9. Hound Dog

**Chapter Eight: Hound Dog**

For the rest of the week, I didn't go to the Curtis' house after school. I couldn't risk any more moments with Ponyboy like the one on their steps - not unless I got rid of Frank, anyway. Which was beginning to seem like a better idea as the days went on.

I tried not to put any more thought into Tuesday afternoon. Really, I did. But it played out in my head over and over. I'd be in history class and something would remind me of how hot my face felt in Vernon's when Carla mentioned Ponyboy. Or I'd catch Pony's eye between class and remember how electric they had looked that night.

My teachers were getting irritated with me, especially Mrs. Cullifer, because I was usually such a great student, but for the rest of the week, I couldn't process a word they said. I did my homework every night with Carla, and I was still passing tests, but in class, a piano probably could've dropped on my head and I wouldn't have noticed. It was the craziest thing.

Being with Frank made me feel even worse. My skin crawled when he touched me now. He didn't smell like chocolate, and he didn't know my middle name. He also seemed to be around constantly: first thing in the morning when Two-Bit's car sped into the parking lot, at my locker between class, by my side all of lunch. I wasn't sure if he knew that I was losing interest, and that was why he was being so clingy, or if he was just... like that. Either way, I was beginning to feel a little smothered.

Did any of this stop me from going out with him on Saturday night? Of course not. Not when Jennifer Price was involved.

Us greaser girls rarely got ready to go out by ourselves. Half of the fun was giggling with your girlfriends and swapping stories and smokes. Last year, we'd all pile up in Jen's bedroom, borrowing her nicer skirts and lipsticks. Then boys started picking us up and even Jenny knew better, so the girls came over to my house instead. Mama and Two-Bit were usually gone anyway.

Sure enough, about twenty minutes before Beth and Jennifer showed up, my big brother knocked on my bedroom door. I had just finished blow drying my hair, the little device still plugged into wall. Slowly creeping over, I turned the dryer back on as I opened the door, blasting Two-Bit right in the face with hot air. His greased hair barely moved.

"Don't make me point that thing back at you," he warned, grinning good naturedly. "I come to check on my only baby sister before I leave for the night, and she attacks me. The nerve. The audacity!"

I giggled as I turned it off. "A gal's gotta protect herself, you know. You could've been a stranger, coming to kill me."

"Little-Bit, what exactly do you think a hair dryer will do against a murderer?"

I had no answer to that one. Instead, I punched him in the shoulder. His carefree expression didn't change in the slightest.

"So where ya goin' tonight?" He asked me.

Two-Bit and I always told each other the truth about our whereabouts, even if we lied to Mama. Somebody had to know where to come find us. So I said, "Terry Jones's, with Jennifer, Curly, Beth, and... Shoot, I don't even know who's going with Beth. Some friend of Curly's."

"Ol' Terry's parties can get kinda wild sometimes. Watch yourself out there, Little-Bit. You got money, cigarettes?" He leaned against the doorway, hands in his jacket pockets, a serious expression on his face.

I smiled affectionately. "I've got a couple of bucks, and about half a pack of smokes. I should be alright."

Immediately, he pulled his own pack of Kools out and handed it to me.

"Two-Bit, you don't have to -"

"I know I don't have to. Take 'em. I'll stop and grab some more tonight. Here's a few dollars too, just in case. Hide it in your shoe so nobody'll steal it from you," he told me. "I'll be at Buck Merrill's, so don't you come lookin' for me unless you have to. Have fun tonight, kiddo. I'll see ya later."

Nobody would ever accuse Two-Bit Matthews of being sweet. Including me, a year ago. He hadn't always been the best big brother to me, but he was making up for it now. My heart felt warm as he whistled his way down the hall and out the door.

The girls would be there soon. I wandered into the kitchen and drank a glass of water, bracing myself. Just as I was finishing up, Jen and Beth burst in.

Without preamble, Jennifer screeched, "Rosalie Matthews, what are you wearing?"

Glory hallelujah. Like Jennifer hadn't seen me in one of my brother's shirts a million times. "Mickey Mouse by Givenchy. Duh."

Beth giggled, but Jen put a hand on her hip. "Are you gonna be sarcastic all night? I can tell Frank that you're sick."

As tempting as that sounded, I knew that wasn't really an option. I sighed and said, "Relax, Jennifer. I'm not going out in this. I had to wash my hair but I didn't want to change into my new dress yet."

"Thank goodness," she replied. Lord, she looked like her mother. Except that the good Mrs. Price would never wear a skirt that short.

"I have to change too, Daddy was home tonight and he'd skin me alive if he saw my dress," Beth announced, completely oblivious to the tension between me and Jennifer. Good ol' Beth. "Do you have any cigarettes, Rose?"

"Yeah, in my room. C'mon."

As always, any hard feelings were quickly forgotten after I opened up the window and we all lit up. Jen turned the radio on, and chaos ensued.

"Rose, do you want to use my red lipstick? I know it's your favorite," Jennifer said, holding out the little scarlet tube. For once, there was no sneer, no malice in her expression. She looked like the Jenny Price that I knew back when we were kids. A pretty girl who was up for anything - even if it wasn't the best idea.

"Yeah," I told her softly. "Thanks."

She turned away before I could say anything else, rooting around in her purse for something. When she retrieved her eyebrow pencil, her face lit up in a gorgeous smile, dimples carved into each cheek.

It was always strange to catch a sighting of Jennifer Price, Actual Human Being, let me tell ya.

Like all good (bad) greaser girls, I painted on my cat eye, pairing it with Jennifer's red lipstick. It was when I changed into my new red dress from Vernon's that it happened. Jennifer looked at me with pursed lips, and I knew the moment was over, as quickly as it had come.

"What now?" I huffed.

"You know, this is your third date with Frank tonight," she spoke slowly, like I wouldn't be able to understand her. Like I wasn't the smartest girl in our class. "He might ask you to go steady. That dress is pretty for school, but is it really what you want to be wearing when Frank Sullivan asks you to be his girl?"

My face burned red hot. Any affection that I might have just felt towards Jen disintegrated. I took the red dress off without a word, scared that if I opened my mouth, I'd scream that I didn't care, because I didn't want to be Frank's girlfriend. There was no way in hell that I could go steady with him - I still barely even knew him, and I wasn't exactly over the moon with what I did know. Not to mention the whole Ponyboy situation, which I was still trying extraordinarily hard to ignore. I didn't even know what to say if Frank asked.

"What about this one?" Beth had walked over and pulled a black dress with long sleeves out of the back of my closet. It was the same one that I wore to the Curtis' funeral.

"I think it's too short now," I said, desperately trying to sound calm.

Before I could even finish my sentence, Jennifer was already crying out, "Put it on! I'll bet you look just like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's."

Wordlessly, helplessly, I took the hanger from Beth. The black fabric still smelled like stale cigarettes; Two-Bit, Mama, and I had all chain smoked the day of the funeral, sharing one lighter between the three of us. A year and a half ago, it was a little baggy. Now, the dress was indeed too short, and tighter. I didn't want to wear it again even if it did look like Holly Golightly's (which it didn't). But Jennifer's blue eyes were lit up all mischievously, and I knew that I was done for.

"Oh yeah. Frank will definitely ask you now," she said with a smirk.

I didn't reply. To tell you the truth, I was caught up with how strange my reflection looked, my hair and face all done up, wearing a short black funeral dress and high heels. How different life had been the last time I'd worn this. I wondered if that girl would even recognize me now.

Beth snapped me out of my reverie. "You look pretty, Rose. Can I borrow your white blouse?"

We weren't exactly the same size, but I agreed. We didn't have much longer before the boys came to pick us up anyway.

Just a few minutes later, a car horn blared from the road. Curly never came inside, though I wasn't sure if that was spawned by laziness, or an effort to avoid girls' parents. As Beth and Jen giggled, checking themselves over one last time, I simply left the room, ignoring the complaints from behind me. I had a headache already, but I couldn't tell whether it was from all the hairspray in the air, or Jennifer's mouth.

"Hey baby!" Jen shrieked, hopping into the passenger seat and kissing her boyfriend on the mouth.

Frank got out and stood to let Beth slide into the middle of the backseat, next to her own date, a blonde guy. When he sat back down, he grinned wickedly.

"Looks like this is the only seat left," Frank said, patting his legs expectantly.

Jennifer watched as I sat on the boy's lap. He wrapped his arms around my waist, treating me to another big whiff on nasty cologne and beer. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice my discomfort.

The drive to Terry's house over on Spring Street only took about ten minutes. Once we were there, though, it took another ten to park; it seemed like half the town was piled up there. As soon as Curly shut the car off, I wrenched the door open and hopped out, escaping Frank's clutches, if only for a moment.

"I can hear Hound Dog from here!" Beth gushed, stepping out onto the sidewalk.

Her date, who Curly had called Nathan, threw an arm across her shoulder. I could practically smell the beer on him too. "You like Elvis, baby?"

"Oh, he's real tuff!"

I lit a cigarette, mostly to focus on something other than my least favorite Elvis song - and my idiot friends. God, why did they act like this around boys? And why did I always come along? Why on earth did I always say yes?

When I pulled the smoke away from my lips to exhale, Frank grabbed it from between my fingers and took a drag. He flashed a grin. I knew he was trying to be cute, but when he gave it back, the end of my cigarette was wet.

Right then and there, before we ever even made it to Terry's, I decided that that would be my last date with Frank. Somehow, some way, I was going to break things off with him tonight, Jennifer be damned.

* * *

A/N: Hi guys! Just wanted to say a big fat thank you to everyone who's reviewed! You guys are so kind, and it really inspires me to spend time on this story. I hope everyone enjoyed this little chapter!


	10. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

**Chapter Nine: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly**

By the time we walked through the door, Terry's party was in full force. Everywhere you looked, there was a kid or four, and a wide variety of them: greasers, hippies, black kids, you name it. I didn't recognize a lot of them. I did notice that about just everybody was clutching a cup, a smoke, or a body though.

"Want a drink?" Frank asked. He practically had to holler to be heard over the music, turned up so loud that the thin walls vibrated. Next to us, I could see the other boys doing the same thing.

"Okay!" I yelled back.

Curly leaned forward to kiss Jennifer before he walked away. I made a point to fiddle with my purse and my cigarettes so that Frank didn't get any ideas. We had made out during our first two dates, but I wasn't looking for an encore.

The guys disappeared into the crowd, heading for the kitchen. Jennifer, Beth and I found an empty corner where we could puff on cigarettes while we waited and try to look sharp. Jen talked loud like always, but I wasn't paying any attention. Nobody else seemed to either. Most of the people there were older than us, some too old for high school. I thought about Two-Bit's warning earlier: Terry's parties got wild.

When Frank reappeared, he handed me a cup. Covertly, I sniffed - 7-Up and vodka. I wished that I had thought to ask for a whiskey and Coke instead, because Daddy liked vodka. Just that smell reminded me of the first time I ever tasted blood, but you didn't say that kind of thing at a party. I took several big gulps, trying to swallow the lump in my throat down with it.

"If you ladies are interested," Curly said devilishly, his low voice cutting right through my thought process, "Terry offered to meet us in the backyard with a joint."

I knew that Tim Shepard sold quite a bit of dope. Curly did too. He told Jen that if wasn't very often, but I was wiser than that (even if she wasn't). How else could a sixteen-year-old hood with no job afford to take Jennifer Price out every weekend?

Even if she didn't like her boyfriend selling it, Jennifer still made me try a few tokes at a party over the summer. Grass made me feel real silly and slow, like my brain and I were wading through molasses. That might be an advantage, though. If I couldn't think straight, I couldn't think about my dad or Ponyboy or anything else. Besides, Jen was already telling him yes, and Beth was nodding too. What choice did I have?

It was a feat just for the six of us to make our way through the living room, into the kitchen, and then out back. We kept bumping into people, or being trampled ourselves, by a guy with hair down to his shoulders and a peace sign hanging from his neck, or three beautiful black girls with hard eyes. There was even a girl dancing on the kitchen table, wearing a pink shift dress. Eventually, though, we bypassed all of them, heading out the back door in a single file line.

With no lights, Terry's backyard would have been dark, but the half full moon covered everything in a silvery light. Against my own will, Ponyboy popped into my mind again. My best friend would appreciate the moon, and the light - but he definitely wouldn't approve of the reason I was out there. For a moment, I wanted to see him so badly that my chest ached. I swallowed more 7-Up and vodka in a poor attempt to soothe it.

Valerie O'Brien was hanging on to Terry's arm like tinsel on the Christmas tree. She was Angela Shepard's best friend, a mean redhead with a Jackie Kennedy haircut. It shouldn't have worked with her leather jacket and short green skirt, but somehow, it did. She resembled a pretty, feral cat, like all of Angela's friends did.

Val also seemed spectacularly drunk. Even from several feet away, I could pink lipstick smeared down her face, how she swayed in her heels. I was just about to feel sorry for her when the girl laid eyes on me, Jennifer, and Beth, and smirked.

"Hey, Curly," she slurred. "Y'all sure got some pretty little dates, huh?"

"Hush, baby," Terry told her absently. He struck a match to light something, and I knew from the shape and smell that it wasn't a cigarette. Glory, I surely hoped this dress wouldn't smell like tobacco and marijuana by the end of the night. That'd make for a great memory.

Valerie took the joint from him. When she inhaled, her brown eyes turned crimson, the cherry reflecting off of them.

She must have noticed my stare, because Val blew her big clouds of smoke directly at me and Jennifer. In another time or place, that would've been an open invitation to knock her pretty teeth down her throat. I liked the idea of that, but I knew better. Jen didn't care say a word, and neither did I.

Because of Valerie's secondhand smoke, the joint had already taken some effect before it ever even got passed to me. It was halfway burnt by then, and there was pink lipstick on the tip. I hit it like I would a cigarette, hard and long, the taste curling around my throat down to my lungs. When I exhaled, I began to cough.

"'Atta girl," Frank said approvingly. He patted my back a couple times, then kept his hand there, flat against my dress. He felt hot and weighty.

I said nothing as I handed the little joint to him. God, I wished I was at the Curtises, watching some old movie that Ponyboy found playing on TV and eating chocolate cake. A strong, chilly wind blew, ruffling everybody's hair, and I shivered.

Thankfully, I only had to hit the damn thing one more time before it went out. Valerie made her exit as soon as the dope was gone, claiming she needed to powder her nose. Everybody else had to stood around to smoke a cigarette, even though it was cold and we could've gone inside to do that. Despite the joint, that simple act rankled me, the way everything else had that evening. I swallowed down the rest of my drink while we stood there. Frank smirked when he saw my cup empty.

"C'mon, babe. You need more booze." He used his hand on my back to lead me away from the group and back towards the house. Beth and Nathan followed us, but Jennifer and Curly stayed with Terry.

Once inside, I realized almost immediately that I did _not_ need another drink. I wasn't stumbling, exactly, but my limbs felt funny, and my red lips seemed to be stretched into a permanent smile, even though that was about the farthest thing from how I actually felt. Frank, oblivious as always, ambled to the refrigerator.

I walked over to the doorway, surveying the party in the living room. I didn't realize what I was searching for until I spotted it: the long, mahogany hair of Ponyboy Curtis. He looked so damn handsome in jeans and a blue t shirt that my heart swelled like a balloon.

Then it occurred to me that he was talking to a girl. She had her back to me, but I could see her red bob, a tight green skirt, the hand on her hip. The balloon popped and my jaw dropped. It was Valerie fucking O'Brien.

I thought Angela had quit chasing Ponyboy. Or was Valerie herself dumb enough to try to make a play? I couldn't tell from the expression on Pony's face. Either way, my whole body was blazing hot all of the sudden, and my stomach felt like it was doing somersaults. I fumbled for another cigarette with shaking hands. Once it was lit, I swear, I smoked half of the damn thing in one drag.

Why the hell did watching Ponyboy talk to Valerie O'Brien hurt so badly? He was my friend, but it wasn't just a friendly concern that I felt. I could blame it on the alcohol all I wanted, but the truth was I was jealous, truly hot with envy for maybe the first time in my life. And it hurt like hell.

Frank came up behind me, curling around my waist and handing me back my cup. Even though it was a lot stronger than last time, I downed nearly half of that too. The dark haired boy seemed completely clueless as he kissed me on the cheek. Then his lips started to trail downwards.

"Let's go to Sin Park," Frank said, his mouth against my neck.

I froze.

Once, I had loved Senatobia Park. It was just a few blocks from my house. Me and Carla grew up on that jungle gym, rusty even back then. Then I reached junior high, and I found out that the kids called it Sin Park. The place was all shadowy at night, making it a good spot to go make out. People had trashed it now, leaving beer cans everywhere and scrawling crude things in the bathroom.

Of course, there was also the bit about Johnny Cade stabbing Bob Sheldon to death at Senatobia Park. That kind of ruined it for me too.

"We can't leave Jennifer and them," I told Frank uneasily. My eyes were still trained on Ponyboy. He either hadn't noticed us yet - or was doing a very good job of pretending he hadn't. "Let's dance for a while, okay?"

I didn't give Frank a chance to protest. This time, I led him, pulling the tough hood out to the middle of room where a few other kids were dancing. The same damn Elvis record played on repeat and I was much too drunk to be any good, but Frank didn't seem to mind. He was pretty gone too. His hands felt glued to my waist, warm and sticky, and he kept stepping on my shoes. Still, I liked to dance. For a while there, it was almost fun.

Then, after nearly half an hour, Frank pulled me close enough that I could smell the vodka on his breath. "Come on, baby, let's get outta here. Don't you wanna go make out at the park?"

His hands and that smell made me panic. "No. I already said I didn't want to go."

I tried to take a step back, but Frank wrapped his arms around my waist so tightly that only my head moved. A wild look came across his brown eyes, the same kind of look I had seen in my father and Dallas Winston and every other mean drunk that I knew. Of course I knew that Frank was a hood, but I had always thought of him as kind of dopey, too dumb to be any real threat, despite his muscles. For the first time, it occurred to me that I might have made a bigger mistake than I thought.

"What's your problem, little girl?"

The larger boy kissed me so hard that my teeth pressed against the back of my lips. I was drunk and scared, but I knew if I could get out of his grip, I could get away. Desperately, I tried again to wriggle away. When that didn't work, using both hands, I began to slap at his broad chest. He loosened his hold enough that I could at least properly lean back and gasp for air.

"Leave me alone, Frank." My voice was clear, and loud, despite the mounting terror ripping through my veins. A few people turned their heads to looked at us. Completely undeterred, my date merely tried to kiss me again. I vigorously resumed my smacking. "Get the fuck off of me!"

He let go of my waist to grab my wrists, preventing me from making contact with his chest again. The boy's eyes were dark and dangerous, a flicker of amusement in them. Frank didn't say a word. He didn't have to.

God help me, I should've never started dating one of Tim Shepard's boys. He probably had a knife on him, and even if he didn't, he was a head taller, and I was drunk as a skunk. I knew it was stupid as hell, but still, I demanded, "Do you know who the fuck I am?"

Suddenly, gentle hands were tugging on my shoulders, pulling me away from Frank's grasp. Ponyboy swiftly stepped in between me and the bulky boy from Shepard's gang.

"Hey, man, I think she told you to leave her alone," Pony said. His tone was surprisingly composed, friendly even. Yet just from the way he stood, shoulders back and squared like Darry's, I knew that he was filled with a rage that could have rivaled mine. It practically radiated off him.

Every eye in the room was on us. Valerie O'Brien, Jennifer and Curly; even the girl who had been dancing on the kitchen table somehow known to come for the show.

Frank leaned his head to the side, looking past Ponyboy to me. He wore a mirthless, wicked grin that made his fiery eyes even more frightening. "Oh, I see. It all makes sense now. You don't want to go with me 'cause of this joker. Didn't I tell you that I didn't want you hanging around him, Rosalie?"

Even though I was scared stiff of this newfound malice, I was still drunk, stoned, and pissed. I was also a greaser, and showing fear wasn't an option. In my deadliest voice, I snarled, "Listen here, Frank Sullivan. I want you to fuck off. Leave me alone. Lose my number. You and me, we're done. Come on, Ponyboy, take me home."

Ponyboy grabbed my hand before Frank could react. The crowded parted for us as we walked out of the party together. There were an awful lot of people watching, but I didn't look at any of them as we walked out the door. I wasn't worried about Frank, or Jennifer.

Instead, all I could think about was Ponyboy's hand wrapped around mine.


	11. Tender is the Night

**Chapter Ten: Tender Is the Night**

It had only been about three hours since I'd walked up this sidewalk with my friends and our dates, inhaling tobacco and praying for a way out, but it felt like another lifetime ago. I laced my fingers through Ponyboy's once I was certain that we were out of sight of any stray party-goers.

True to form, Pony immediately turned to look me over. I might have blushed at the way his eyes combed from head to toe, but his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Are you okay, Rosie?"

"I'm drunk," I said, because the answer to his question was a little too complicated to get into on Spring Street, even if the night had gotten cooler and clearer. "You ought to take me home."

"I gathered that. We'll have to walk though," he said apologetically. "Two-Bit dropped me off, but he didn't want to stay."

God bless my big brother. I owed him for this one, an excuse to hold Pony's hand for a little while longer. It was the first nice thing to happen all evening - except for him defending me earlier, I guess.

A thought popped into my head, and without a thought, I started talking. If I was sober, I would've never said it, but liquor made me lose my filter. "Hey, did I ever tell you about the time that your daddy saved me from my daddy, like you just did? It was back when they used to drink together, you remember? Back before Daddy left. Anyway, I spilled Daddy's beer, and he got so god damn mad at me. He started screaming and shit, calling me all kinds of names. Lord, your dad got mad at him! They'd been friends forever, but when Daddy went to smack me, your dad stood right up and punched him in the face. Busted his lip open and everything. I thought your dad must have been a superhero out of a comic book or something. Curtis men are always coming to my rescue, I guess."

Ponyboy stared at me. His eyes were the size of the moon. "Isn't that the dress you wore to the funeral?"

"Golly, you notice everything, don't you?"

He didn't look angry, just sad, maybe sadder than I'd ever seen him - except for that damned funeral. This damned dress. "Rosie, you smell like dope. Are you stoned? You already said that you're drunk, so you might as well tell the truth."

I frowned. "I always tell you the truth. Yes, I smoked a joint, with Frank and Terry and Valerie O'Brien. Speaking of which, why was she talking to you?"

Ponyboy heaved a massive sigh and ran his free hand through his hair. He ignored my question. "You're gonna drive me crazy, you know that? I'm not angry or nothing, but - why on earth did you do all that?"

It was a cool night, but I felt hot and clammy. I knew I had to tell the truth, because this was Ponyboy, and, as I had just finished stating, I didn't - couldn't - lie to him, under any circumstances. But I couldn't look at him either as I admitted, "Because I was on a date with the wrong boy."

Pony was silent for a moment. Long enough that I worried I had somehow misread this entire thing, that I'd said the wrong thing. Finally, in a pained voice, he asked, "Is it Johnny?"

Glory. Not once over the past year had I told Pony about my feelings for Johnny. Not even a hint. Combine that kind of shock with the alcohol, and suddenly, I was reeling. "How did you know about that?"

"Well, I didn't really, till just now," he said with a small smile. His fingers gripped mine tightly as we turned a corner. "But I saw you in your window when he - when he got jumped. That look on your face... how much did you see?"

God, I nearly got sick right then and there on the side of Forrester Road. Of course I always thought that Pony had looked at me that day. But we'd never talked about it, he'd never confirmed it.

Without any kind of warning, that afternoon replayed in my mind. I could still hear the way they threatened Johnny, the sound of fists against flesh, violent flashes of red blood and a blue Mustang. Jesus fuck, two of those boys were dead now.

"All of it," I told him, my voice quiet and shaking. "I saw everything, Ponyboy. Oh god, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should've... I should've..."

There was no stopping it. I dissolved into tears. For a year and half, I tried so hard to keep that secret. Of course it would come out when Ponyboy was finally holding my hand - and when I was too drunk to control myself. (Off vodka, of all things.)

Then, to my immense surprise, the boy stopped. We were only a few more minutes from home now, the road empty and quiet. He parked himself right down on the curb, then turned to me. With kind, clear eyes, Ponyboy reached for my hand again and gently tugged.

It felt like I was in a dream or something as I sat down. How could he still be the sweetest boy on the planet, even after all that he now knew? But he was. Pony put his arm around me, pulling me to him.

"It's alright, Rosie," he assured me in a low, calm voice. "Don't cry. It's okay."

"But I should've helped him!" I wailed. "I just watched, Ponyboy, and I could've helped him. God damn it, it's been this long and I still fucking hate myself for that. I could've helped."

"Rosalie, listen." Pony never called by my full name. It shocked me enough that I watched him as he spoke, his own eyes focused somewhere off in the distance. "I know you're a good fighter, but there really wasn't anything you could've done. They were high school boys. Bob had a lot of rings..." His face contorted with grief, just for a second, just long enough to rip my heart out of my chest and throw it onto the street. "They would've just hurt you too. And I don't think Johnny would've ever forgiven himself if you had gotten hurt."

This was why we didn't talk about Johnny, or Dally, or his parents, at least not without the blanket of night around us. Because it fucking hurt. It hurt him, and it hurt me to hurt him. I was so angry at myself, and that was the worst kind of anger, because you can't exactly punch yourself in the face.

Still, I demanded, "I let Johnny get hurt though. How do I forgive myself for that?"

Pony reached his free hand up to brush the hair out of my face, the touch feather soft. "It's not your fault that they jumped him, Rosalie. You shouldn't blame yourself."

I didn't know what to say. I felt like I had said too much already anyway.

Pony didn't press the matter any further. He simply looked up at the stars. His face in the pale moonlight, especially after I had longed for the sight just a few hours earlier, seemed too beautiful to be true. Any other person would be broken by the things he'd seen, and yet here he was, gazing at the night sky, his body warm next to mine. Just being next to him made me feel better.

Something occurred to me again. "Hey. You never answered my question earlier, about Valerie."

Ponyboy laughed. This close, the sound seemed to course through me, patching some of the holes in my chest. "Rosie, are you jealous?"

"Answer the question first," I said, poking his knee.

"Valerie was tryin' to put in a good word for Angela Shepard again," Pony replied. Even in the light, I could see his face turning red. "I told her I ain't interested though."

I tried to sound casual, but I knew that he'd see right through me when I inquired, "Why not?"

"Well..." He turned to look at me, his eyes warm enough to make me sweat on a late September night. "I don't want to go on a date with the wrong girl."

I bit my lip. My heart was absolutely pounding in my ears. "Oh yeah? You got somebody in mind?"

"Nope, it's your turn now," he smiled. "Are you jealous?"

By this point, I was just as drunk off that smile as I was off the vodka. The words spilled out before I could stop them. "I was when I saw you talking to Valerie."

Pony kept looking at me, grinning and gorgeous, and I wondered why the hell it had taken me this long to realize how good this was. How good _he_ was.

Just as it occurred to me that I could simply lean forward and those lips would be on mine, Pony stood. He offered me his hand again though.

"C'mon, Rosie. We've got to get you to bed before you feel any worse tomorrow."

I got up reluctantly. Lord have mercy, I wanted to kiss him. I didn't care that he was my best friend, or that there would be hell to pay from Jennifer come Monday morning. I desperately wanted to know if he tasted like chocolate too.

Ponyboy seemed to know what I was thinking. His smile was understanding, at least. "Maybe next time you shouldn't drink so much, huh?"

"Next time I'll just go with you in the first place and skip all that bullshit," I blurted out.

Before I could be embarrassed, though, Ponyboy squeezed my hand.

He didn't say anything else as we turned onto Chickasaw. Darry's Ford was in the driveway, but my house was dark. Mama was at work, and Two-Bit wouldn't be home till the wee hours of the night. The idea of going home and being alone after the wild night I'd had wasn't really appealing, but I hadn't sobered up enough to go anywhere else. Besides, Mama would kill me if I didn't tell her I was spending the night somewhere.

It took longer than necessary to reach my house at the end of the block, but Ponyboy seemed to be dawdling as much as me. Finally, when we were in the front yard, he turned to face me again.

"You know people are gonna say that you broke up with Frank for me, right?" He was still holding my hand, both of us reaching a little to maintain to touch.

I gave him the best grin I had. "Well, I did, didn't I?"

God almighty, he was cute when he blushed. "Good night, Rosie."

"Night, Pony. Thanks for rescuing me."

The house didn't feel so lonely when I entered, even if it was empty. Maybe it was because my mind was swirling with copper hair and green eyes.


	12. Everybody's Talkin'

**Chapter Eleven: Everybody's Talkin'**

Sundays were never a day of rest for me. It was Mama's one day off, so once she got up and moving around two o'clock, it was time to clean. For years, I'd sacrificed one day out of my weekend to scrubbing the toilet and sweeping the floors. (Two-Bit never helped until about last winter, when we woke up one Sunday to him bleaching the bathroom floor. It was spooky.) Thanks to all the 7-Up and vodka, I didn't out of bed myself until after noon, so I had no time to visit the Curtises or call Carla or do anything of the things I wanted to do before Mama had recruited me to do dishes.

Monday morning, I felt vaguely nauseous while getting ready for school. I skipped the peanut butter sandwich and downed twice as much coffee. My mind kept anxiously barreling back and forth between two singular subjects: Ponyboy and Jennifer.

I couldn't wait to see him, even if it was just a ten minute drive to school. I was not looking forward to seeing her, in the parking lot or in homeroom or any other time. Both were guaranteed.

"You alright, Little-Bit?" Two-Bit asked once we were in the car, away from Mama's prying ears. "You're sucking on that cigarette like it's the last one you'll ever see."

My big brother had made strides this past year, but I still wasn't exactly keen on discussing my newfound feelings for Ponyboy with him. Knowing Two-Bit, he probably wouldn't mind (hell, he'd just be happy that I wasn't dating a hood) but I wasn't ready for all the jokes I'd have to endure. So instead I told him, "Jennifer probably isn't real happy with me, 'cause I broke it off with Frank."

Two-Bit raised an eyebrow. "Well, good for you, Little-Bit. That guy was a Neanderthal."

"I get the feeling a lot of people are gonna be pissed about it," I said slowly. "Especially because I kind of broke up with him for Ponyboy."

Thankfully, before the conversation could go any further, we pulled up to the Curtis' house. Ponyboy was already walking out the door, waving goodbye to his brothers. You could hear Two-Bit's car start up from a mile away.

Pony practically beamed as he got into the car. Even sober, I wanted to lean into him and kiss that smile. It felt sort of uncomfortable to think like that in front of my brother, but I suppose I was past the point of no return now.

"How ya doin', Ponykid?" Two-Bit asked.

The younger boy hit the smoke that I handed him before answering. "I'm alright. How are y'all?"

"Well, I'm just dandy, but Rosalie here is worried about Jennifer Price," my brother declared. "I'm amazed she gave up that cigarette, the way she was clutchin' onto it."

I gave him the absolute filthiest look I could possibly muster. "Really, Keith?"

"What? Obviously, he knows what happened. I'm just makin' conversation," Two-Bit replied innocently.

"Talk about something else," I snapped.

"You should just punch her, Little-Bit. Knock the absolute shit out of that girl. She'll leave you alone then."

I muttered, "Should knock the absolute shit out of you."

"How was Buck's?" Pony asked my brother, probably just to change the subject.

Two-Bit liked telling stories more than he liked teasing me. He kept up a steady stream of jokes and inappropriate tales about his weekend and Wanda Idelmann, his latest conquest, all the way to school. It was vulgar, but I was grateful, honestly; this meant I didn't have to talk, or pay attention.

When we reached the parking lot, one of Ponyboy's friends from the track team hollered for him, just as Nancy Aberdeen began waving me down from a few feet away. Before I could walk away, he gently touched my arm.

"Good luck today, Rosie," the green eyed boy said softly.

I smiled, my first genuine one all morning. "Thanks. I'll see you after school?"

"Our first track meet is today," he told me, a hint of an apology in his voice. "You should come by my house afterwards though."

Nancy was jumping up and down at this point. I agreed, then hurried over to my friend before she had a heart attack or something.

"Hey, Nance, where's the fire?" I asked.

Carla and Beth were already standing with her. All three girls looked at me sympathetically as Nancy said, "It's Jennifer. I tried to call you yesterday, but your mom said you weren't home."

I told Mom to tell her that. I had wanted to put off this moment for as long as possible. "What about Jennifer?"

"See for yourself," Carla said, nodding somewhere behind me.

I turned, scanning the crowd. It didn't take long to find her. Especially because she was standing with Frank, Curly and Angela Shepard, Valerie O'Brien, and Sue Galloway, another one of Angela's girls. Never did I think I would see the day in which Jennifer Price played second fiddle, but it was clear from the way they stood that Angela was the one holding court. When Angela saw me looking, she flipped me a bird. Some Angel.

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to my friends. "How'd they become such fast friends?"

"After you left the party, Angela showed up looking for Ponyboy," Beth told me. "Jenny was already hanging out with Valerie and Terry, so she told Angela what happened."

"You know that for sure?" I asked, because gossip at Will Rogers' wasn't always reliable, and I needed the facts.

"Yeah. Nathan and I were making out in the bathroom, but Jen told me on the ride home."

"So why aren't you over there with them?" Carla asked, ever watchful.

The blonde girl looked at us like we were the stupid ones. "We've always been friends. If Jennifer wants to be friends with someone else, she can, but I like y'all. Besides, Jen is kind of a bitch."

The first warning bell rang. With my three girl friends, I headed towards the building.

I asked the group, "So what you're telling me is that I've got six new enemies, because I didn't want to go to Sin Park with Frank Sullivan?"

"Nah, it's mostly 'cause you left with Ponyboy," Beth said. "You should watch yourself, Rose. Angela is real sour."

"I'm not scared of Angela Shepard," I said defiantly. Which was true. Angela and Jennifer together, though, was causing me a little anxiety.

"Just be careful, ya dig?" Carla gave me a significant look when she spoke.

"And why didn't you tell us that you liked Ponyboy?" Nancy asked. We were deep into the hallway now, surrounded by a whole lot of people, filing away to their classes. My stomach twisted.

I shrugged. "I didn't really know myself until recently."

Before the girls could say anything else, we arrived at my homeroom. Nancy squeezed my arm. "Good luck, Rose. We're all on your side, okay?"

Lord, I wished people would stop wishing me luck. It just made me feel even worse.

Jennifer was already seated when I walked in, which surprised me; usually, she was one of the last ones to class, soaking in as much socialization as she could beforehand. She must have been waiting for me.

It was like a flip switched in my brain. I went from anxious to fucking angry, just from the side of her golden blonde hair. Every bit of irritation from the last few years suddenly landed squarely on my chest. Never one to dodge provocation, I waltzed right over and took the seat next to her.

"Hi, Jenny. Have a good weekend?" I questioned brightly over the final bell.

"Oh, cut the shit, Rosalie," she said flatly. One morning with Angela, and she was already cussing. Golly, what would her mother say? "Do you have any idea what you did?"

"I'm pretty sure I was there, Jennifer."

The principal began making his daily announcements over the loudspeaker. We carried on, undisturbed.

"You embarrassed Frank in front of everybody!" She hissed. "And then you basically insult Angela by walking out hand in hand with the guy that everybody knows she's chasing. You could've just told me you weren't interested in Frank. I would've found you somebody else."

I scoffed. Ten years of being pushed around put venom in my voice. "Don't you see that that's the problem, Jen? I don't want some boy that _you_ picked out for me."

"Well, you'd better stay away from Ponyboy Curtis," she warned me. "Angela's got it out for you now, and believe me when I say that you don't need anymore beef with the Shepards."

"Oh, I'm just a-shakin' in my Mary Janes," I said with a sneer.

Jennifer gave me a nasty look, but she didn't say anything else for the rest of homeroom. She didn't need to. The score was set now.

xxxxx

I managed to get through the entire school day without punching someone. That was an accomplishment for me. And then Patty Mondino had to go and ruin all that in the parking lot after school.

It was the first time I'd ever walked by myself from Mrs. Burdeshaw's classroom to Two-Bit's car; Pony had always been with me before. But he was at track practice, so I was on my own. The whispers that sprung up as soon as I passed felt louder than the cicadas in July. At least they were all coming from behind though. Then, a couple feet up ahead, I heard someone say my name.

There were people in between, but I slinked past them, so that I was right behind Patty Mondino and her friend Cheryl. I knew them; they were lower middle class girls trying desperately not to be greasers, because they were scared of us.

Still, Patty had no qualms telling Cheryl, "And so all of the sudden, Rosalie starts losing her damn mind, slapping Frank, cussing at him. And then she walks out of the place hand in hand with Ponyboy Curtis!"

"What did Frank do?" Cheryl asked eagerly.

"Nothin' yet, but I reckon he'll fix up Curtis and Matthews," Patty giggled. "I knew she was a greaser, but I guess Rosalie is a whore like the rest of them now too."

I knew I should've been pissed, and I was. But when I reached forward tapped and tapped Patty on the shoulder, I was grinning. I was gonna enjoy this.

"Big fuckin' mistake, Mondino," I said. And then my fist connected solidly with the front of her nose.

Ponyboy asked me once why I liked to fight. It took me a while to figure it out myself, but I came up with three solid reasons.

One, it was the absolute best way that I knew of to get rid of some of the god damn anger that was always boiling in my blood. Two, I liked the way it scared people, like Patty's little friend Cheryl, who bolted the second she heard my voice. And three, because, well, I was damn good at it.

I always liked to start with the nose or the teeth. They were breakable, and a quick way to draw blood. A lot of people won't even hit you back if they start bleeding.

Patty's nose immediately started pouring, but she still swung for me. My teeth scraped the back of my lips, much like how they had at Terry's from Frank's kiss. I was kind of impressed with her when I got a good taste of crimson myself. Impressed enough that I went straight for her eye. Then I really returned the favor by punching her in the mouth quicker than she could hit me.

She landed one more, this one on the side of my jaw. Speed was always my advantage, though, and this fight was no different. I just hit faster than they could hit back. Patty, like everybody else before her, eventually stopped trying.

I'd never lost a fight. You'd think by now that people would learn to stop fucking with me. Most of them did, but every once in a while, I got real lucky with an idiot like Patty Mondino.

A crowd had gathered around us, including Two-Bit, who couldn't hide the smirk on his face if he tried. I pulled out my pack of cigarettes and lit one, making sure to blow smoke onto a couple of nicer looking girls, before walking over to my brother.

"You're gonna have to take me to the Curtises to get cleaned up," I told him grimly. There was blood mixed in with the lipstick on the end of my cigarette.

"Ya know, somehow, I kinda figured that," Two-Bit said, heading towards the car. "You'd better hope ol' Darrel didn't get rained out today, 'cause if he sees you all banged up like this, you'll probably get an earful."

He was right; the pavement was still wet from the afternoon thunderstorm we'd gotten. I groaned. "How come my own big brother doesn't lecture me, but Pony's will?"

Two-Bit opened my car door for me, waving his hand dramatically for me to sit. Once he'd walked around and got in himself, he lit his own cigarette before starting up his little angel. She sounded like she smoked more than we did.

"Little-Bit, I ain't gonna lecture you, but I do want to talk to you," my brother said, adjusting his mirrors. He could never look at you when he was trying to he serious.

"About?" I had to roll down the window and spit out a mouthful of blood after I spoke. Patty had gotten me good, I'd give her that. But only once.

"Ponyboy."

"Two-Bit, please -"

He just talked louder. "Rosalie, the kid's been through a lot. You know that."

I sighed, knowing that I was firmly pinned into this conversation now. "I do know that. Where are you goin' with this?"

"Look, Ponyboy is my best buddy, alright? He's a good guy." Two-Bit paused to drag on his cigarette. I waited, not daring to interrupt wherever my brother was going with this. "And I don't know how you've missed this, darlin', but that kid is absolutely crazy about you. So I know you're my kid sister and all, but if you're just toying with him, or if you hurt him, I'll be forced to bust your head in. Savvy?"

"Yeah," I replied softly. "I hear you."

"You're a real good kid, Little-Bit. So is he. And I want y'all to be happy. So don't think that I'm tryin' to stop y'all or something, 'cause I ain't," my big brother said.

We were pulling onto Forrester now; one more left and we'd be on Chickasaw Street.

"Well, look, I promise that the last thing I wanna do is hurt Pony, and I'm definitely not toying with him," I told Two-Bit. "He's my best friend too, you know? But I had no idea that he felt this way - or that I did - up until about a week ago. I guess I'm just still trying to figure this all out."

My brother grinned at me. It felt like much more familiar territory now. "Kid, it ain't that difficult. Don't go over thinkin' things."

He finally dropped it, which I was grateful for because the Curtis' old Ford was visible as soon as we turned into our road. Darry was definitely home, and I was covered in blood.

This was gonna be fun.


	13. East of Eden

**Chapter Twelve: East of Eden**

Darrel Curtis Sr. hadn't been the type of man to raise his voice. There was the fight with my daddy, and then the time that Soda got arrested for doing flips on a sidewalk (with my brother, of course), but all the years that I'd lived down the street, I'd rarely heard Mr. Curtis yell.

Their mother, on the other hand, was a different story. She was a kind woman, and everybody's mother, but you could usually find Kathryn Curtis with her blonde head stuck out the front door, hollering at one of the boys to quit doing something or another.

Unfortunately for me, Darry may have looked just like his dad, but he took after his mama.

The second that Darry laid his blue-green eyes upon me, he started yelling, "Rosalie! What on earth is the matter with you?! You told me you were gonna try to quit fighting -"

"I did try," I interrupted weakly. "I made it all the way to the end of the day without hitting somebody. I tried real hard."

For a second, Darry continued to glare at me. Then his lips twitched at the corners, and I knew things would be okay. Two-Bit, already spread out on the faded, floral print couch, snickered at us.

That was the secret to Darry, the trick that me and Soda and Two-Bit got, even if Ponyboy didn't: the tough, cool twenty-one-year-old liked to be teased sometimes, because he liked to be treated like a normal person.

He was already heading down the hallway, no doubt after bandages and antiseptics, as he called out, "So what was it this time, huh? Little Sally look at you funny?"

"No," I deadpanned. "Patty Mondino called me a whore."

Two-Bit yelped. "Jesus, Little-Bit! No wonder you tried to break her nose."

"Don't encourage her," Darry told my brother sourly as he re-entered the room. Then, just as Ponyboy had done Saturday night, the older boy turned to fully assess me.

There was blood on my blouse, probably thanks to Patty. There was also probably some on my face, from both my mouth and my busted knuckles. I could feel a bruise already blooming along my jaw, and my makeup was probably a hot mess. Not one of my finest moments, for certain.

Darry just sighed and shook his head. "Go to the bathroom and use a rag to wipe some of the blood off first. I'll get you one of Pony's shirts to change into, since you've just about ruined yours. Lordy, Rosalie, I swear you fight more than either one of my kid brothers."

I could've argued with that logic (the only people who could stand to fight Sodapop were jealous boyfriends, while Ponyboy was the one greaser who could actually stay out of trouble) but I knew better. I simply did as I was told.

After I'd scrubbed the dried blood and smeared eyeliner from my face, Darry gave me a navy blue t-shirt. It smelled of cigarettes and soap and sugar. I tried hard not to grin like a fool as I hurried back into the bathroom to change. I rinsed my blouse out with warm water and hung it on the towel rack, but I knew it was no use; the blue fabric was probably going to be stained permanently.

By the time I made it back to the living room, Soda had come home. He had no shirt or shoes, but an enormous smile on his face as my big brother recounted the story of the fight.

"Hey, hey, hey, killer, how ya feelin'?" Sodapop asked.

"I've been better, I s'pose."

Darry said, "Come into the kitchen and let me bandage you up."

Translation: come in here so I can lecture you in private.

Soda raised his eyebrows but said nothing as the two of us headed for the kitchen. Because this was definitely not our first rodeo, I knew to head straight for the sink. Darry poured a healthy bit of peroxide onto my hand. It didn't burn like alcohol, but it didn't feel nice either. By the time we sat down at the table, my stomach was already a knot of dread.

"So. Why did Patty Mondino call you a whore?"

A year ago, Darry probably just would've yelled. A year ago, Darry barely knew me. Now, thanks to some help from Sodapop and a couple of parenting books from the library (along with, I suspected, the cute young librarian who worked the night shift), the eldest Curtis liked to employ the interrogation method as well. This worked great for Ponyboy, who usually wanted to tell his side of the story anyway. It did not work well for me, particularly in this situation.

I winced when he grabbed my injured hand, but not from pain. "Dar, I really don't wanna talk about it."

"Why not?"

Oh Jesus.

"Because I don't, alright?" I snapped.

He wrapped the bandage around my knuckles once, tightly, as he said, "You would've told her."

"Don't be mean," I frowned.

I lowered my voice, but I knew Two-Bit and Soda were probably eavesdropping either way. I loved these boys, but sometimes, I hated these boys. "My idiot brother probably already told you, since he seems to know all about it, but I went to a party with Frank Sullivan on Saturday night. He wanted to go to Sin Park, and I didn't. When he got rowdy, Ponyboy stepped in, and then he took me home. So because I left with Ponyboy, people think I broke up with Frank for him."

Darry kept his pale eyes on my hand, nearly wrapped now. "Did anything else happen on Saturday night?"

Well, let's see. I certainly wasn't gonna tell Darrel Junior about the drinking and the dope, and I was absolutely not gonna talk about Johnny again. There was only one thing I could say that I knew would take the conversation an entirely different direction. I didn't want to, but sometimes, you have to choose between evils.

So I admitted, "Pony and I held hands. Happy?"

Darry surpressed a smile. My hand was fully bandaged now. He screwed the cap back on the bottle of peroxide. "You're finally figuring it all out, huh?"

"Please don't say anything to anybody else," I begged. "I'm serious. I don't want this to get messed up."

"Yeah, okay. Just maybe don't punch anybody for a couple days, huh, Little-Bit?" The older boy stood. At his full height, Darry was nearly a foot taller than me.

"Angela Shepard has it out for me, but I'll do my best," I said grimly.

"What do the Shepards have to do with this?" He sighed.

"Angela likes Ponyboy too."

Darry shook his head, muttering "Girls," as he left the room. For the first time all day, I was (somewhat) alone.

Once, it had been his mother who cleaned me up. When my own mom started work, she couldn't mop up my bloody noses, the way she had when my father was still around. Of course, Two-Bit had no clue what to do the first time I came home from school with a busted lip. He just took me to Mrs. Curtis, because that's what we all did back then.

Darry was right; I probably would've told her everything. She never lectured me. She may have yelled at the boys, but like most adults, Mrs. Curtis could never really be mad at me. I was a Matthews, after all. We would sit at this kitchen table, and Two-Bit would keep everyone else entertained in the living room while I would spin my tale to the blonde woman, hamming it up as much as I could while she doctored whatever injury I'd acquired this time. She had a soft laugh, like Pony's.

I didn't realize that I was crying until my view of the table started to blur. Impatiently, I wiped under each eye with a thumb. I wasn't the type of girl to start bawling all over everything; I was from the East side, after all. It may have been hell of a week, but I wasn't gonna start now.

Once I had steadied myself, I joined my brother and Soda on the couch. Their taste in shows was trash, but it was better than sitting there wallowing.

Two-Bit had put I Love Lucy, probably to appease me. It worked though; I still loved that show, all these years later. I got so absorbed that it surprised me when the clock struck five.

"I'm gonna go get Pony from practice," Darry announced, shrugging on his jacket. "I'll cook dinner for everybody when I get back, okay?"

"Ten-four, Superman," Soda replied with a wink.

As soon as Darry's truck left the driveway, I hopped off of the couch and headed back for the kitchen. I rifled through the cabinets for a minute, then hollered, "How's spaghetti sound to y'all? I could make garlic toast to go with it."

"Rosalie, you surely know the way to a man's heart," Sodapop beamed. "Speakin' of which..."

I walked back to the living room and stood on my hips, staring down the two boys angrily. "Nope. Not speaking of anything. My love life is no longer up for discussion tonight. I will take my little ass home and y'all will have to eat whatever Darry cooks."

Soda smiled sweetly. "Okay, Rose. But only because you make the best garlic toast."

Really, I tried to keep glaring at him. It's just awfully hard to glare at such a beatific face. I settled for rolling my eyes before going back to the stove.

I did make a mean garlic bread. Usually, I was a pretty good cook, for the same reason I did all the grocery shopping: if Two-Bit tried to make spaghetti, he would burn the house down. I was a better chef at nine than he was now at nineteen.

By the time Darry and Pony came home, nearly half an hour later, everything was almost done. The older boy stayed in the living room, talking to Sodapop and Two-Bit about whatever was on TV, while Ponyboy came into the kitchen. He must've showered after practice, because his hair was wet. It was all combed back out of his face, sort of like Soda's, putting his sparkling green eyes on display.

"Hey Rosie! It smells good in here," the boy said brightly.

I smiled back. "Thanks. I figured you'd be hungry when you got home. Also, I'm tryin' to grovel, since Darry had to play nurse again." I held up my injured hand, showing off the bandages, while I stirred the sauce with my left. Since fourth grade, I'd been able to use both hands interchangeably, a result of my right one constantly being busted open.

Ponyboy stood next to me and leaned against the counter. "He told me about it on the way home. Did Patty really call you that?"

"Yeah. She was talking to one of her friends and didn't realize I was behind her, but still. Will you hand me an oven mitt?"

"Here, let me do it."

I stood aside to so Pony could take the toast out of the oven. He was always doing nice little things for me like that.

"Is the food ready yet? I'm starving," Soda whined, walking into the kitchen. The boy's eighteenth birthday was just a couple of weeks away, but you wouldn't know it by the way he acted when he was hungry or tired.

"Yeah, it is. Get everybody in here, will you?"

You've never seen plates made faster than when four greaser boys are hungry for spaghetti and garlic bread. It was downright comical.

Once we all sat down and everybody dug in, Two-Bit began to provide the entertainment for the evening. "Have I told y'all about Officer Shit-For-Brains?"

Pony raised an eyebrow. "You mean Officer Schmidt, the one who parks down by the Ribbon?"

"Right. Officer Shit-For-Brains," my brother agreed easily. "Anyhow, Friday night, Wanda and I are drivin' up and down the Ribbon, drinking a couple beers, when ol' Shit-For-Brains starts followin' us. And you know, this ain't the first time he's trailed me."

"More like the fifteenth," I added.

"Exactly! So I get a little annoyed. I'm not doin' anything wrong. I'm just trying to enjoy my evening with a lovely lady."

"So what did you do?" Sodapop asked.

"I slowed riiiiiight on down to about two miles per hour," Two-Bit grinned. "There was a line of cars practically a mile behind us. Eventually, Mike Buchanan passed us both and sped on by. Mr. Shit-For-Brains had no choice but to ticket him and leave me alone to leave and breathe and kiss Wanda Idelmann another day."

Darry pointed his fork at my brother as he spoke. "You oughta leave the fuzz alone, before they find some reason to throw you in the cooler."

"Shoot, give it two days and I'd have those boys so crazy, they'd throw me right back out."

Two-Bit and Soda roared with laughter. Ponyboy and I exchanged a bemused look. God help my idiot brother.

It was nice to spend dinner talking and laughing and eating good food. I had missed this last week, when I was avoiding Ponyboy. By the time Darry brought out the chocolate cake, I could almost completely forget about my problems.

Well, aside for the bandages on my hand, and Pony's warm gaze every time I looked up.


	14. Bang Bang

**Chapter Thirteen: Bang Bang**

All week, I waited for Angela and Jennifer's retaliation. Surely, two of the meanest girls on the East side (behind me, anyway) weren't just going to let me get away with publicly humiliating a Shepard and one of Shepard's boys. It was relatively quiet at school though. After my fight with Patty, nobody else dared say a stray word anywhere near me. Sue Galloway started hanging all over Frank, but it didn't bother me. I had genuinely never liked him anyway.

The only guy I wanted to talk to was Ponyboy. Unfortunately, he had track practice on Mondays and Thursdays, while Mrs. Lowenthal had my theater class practicing Guys and Dolls on Tuesday after school. Wednesday, Beth asked me to help her with our math homework. This meant that by Friday, I still hadn't had a chance to get him alone.

Mind you, I didn't really know what I wanted to say. It's not like there was a how-to guide in the library, explaining everything to do when your friendship began turning into more. I knew the boy would be more than happy to hear anything I had to say on the subject, but come on. It was _Ponyboy_. The guy who actually liked the Great Gatsby and memorized poems. It had to be something... romantic.

Greaser girls like romance about as much as they like the Beatles: in private, it sounded superb. In public, we had a natural tendency spit on the idea.

My friends were no help. Nancy had never had a boyfriend, Beth's idea of romance involved the backseat of a Plymouth, and Carla just kept telling I'd know when the time was right. Even though she was probably just as spot on as usual, I was surly.

Friday afternoon, as Ponyboy walked me to my brother's car, he asked, "Do you have any plans tonight, Rosie?"

He sounded nervous, which made me nervous. It didn't help that the jealous eyes we'd been experiencing since the first day of school seemed to have tripled. We must have still be a popular topic of conversation, even if no one was talking where I could hear them.

It also didn't help that I really, really wanted to hold his hand again.

"Might go down to Mexico. Rob a bank." I shot Pony a grin, forever hiding behind my humor. "Want to come with?"

The face that Ponyboy made when he was trying not to laugh at my nonsense, red faced and eye rolling, might just have been my favorite sight in the world. "Sounds tuff. I'll be home all night. You should come by and talk about it."

We'd made it to the parking lot now. I bumped him with my shoulder. "I'll consider it."

Cue that face again. God help me.

When we reached Two-Bit's car, he was already sitting inside of it with the windows rolled down. The rusty haired boy had his flask in one hand and a cigarette in another, a grin on his face.

"Hey big brother, where's the party?" I asked as I slid into the middle of the front seat.

"Want a sip?" He offered.

"No thanks. It'd be animal cruelty to trap Pony in here with the both of us pickled," I said. And it was true that I didn't want to drink around Ponyboy, but for an entirely different reason. "Still, whatcha celebratin'?"

"It's Friday night, darlin'!" He cried, backing out of his parking space. "I'm goin' to Buck's after I drop the two of y'all off. I been playin' poker with the boys, and I won pretty big last week. I intend to do it again."

"You better give me some of your winnings for food, Gamblin' Man," I told him.

He pulled my hair. "You know it, Little-Bit."

We didn't make much more conversation on the ride home. Two-Bit filled the silence by singing along to the radio, off key and always a word behind. When we dropped Pony off a few minutes later, I noted with some relief that the Ford wasn't in the driveway yet.

On the short stretch of road between the Curtis' house and ours, my brother asked, "What are you and the kid up to tonight?"

"God almighty, Two-Bit," I grumbled. "I'm supposed to go over to his house and talk about things, I guess. How'd you even know that I had plans with him?"

He shrugged with a smirk. "Lucky guess."

I sighed. Before I could say anything else, he was idling in front of our house.

"Good luck tonight, kiddo. See you tomorrow," Two-Bit said with a grin.

The second I was out of the car, he screeched off, the collar on his jacket popped up, another cigarette already lit. I just shook my head as I walked into the house.

I knew Pony was probably waiting on me, but first, I had to call Carla. She'd made me promise to keep her updated, after all.

When she picked up the phone, I could hear screeching in the background. "Henderson residence, Carla speaking."

"Hi, this is Susan with the Oklahoma State Zoo. We heard you had a wild monkey loose up there?"

Carla giggled. "Hi, Rosalie."

Without missing a beat, I replied, "Hey. So I'm supposed to go over to Pony's tonight."

"Why are you on the phone with me, then?" She questioned.

"Um, moral support!" I wrapped the cord of the phone around my finger and leaned against the kitchen wall. Thank goodness nobody else was home to see me mooning. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Glory, Rose, just talk to the boy. He's your best friend, isn't he? This shouldn't be that difficult," Carla said with a chuckle.

"Right." I sighed, steeling myself up before I said, "Thanks Carl. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"You better," she teased. "Bye Rose."

After I hung up the phone, I wasted a little bit more time; drinking a glass of water, brushing my hair, smoking cigarettes, pacing. Darry and Soda usually both worked late on the weekends, so I figured we had plenty of time.

Finally, at four o'clock, I was just about to head out the door. Then the phone rang.

I figured it was Carla again, or maybe Pony, so I rushed to answer. "Hello?"

"Hey, Little-Bit," my brother said wearily.

Immediately, my pulse quickened. I wasn't sure why, but I had a terrible feeling all of the sudden. "Where are you calling from? Are you alright?"

"Well, I'm actually down here at the Tulsa Police Station," he sighed. "Shit-for-Brains picked me up."

"Two-Bit, you better be fucking joking," I replied.

"I'm afraid not, darlin'. Apparently, an eye witness saw me busting up old Mr. Kolanski's car. You know, over on Walnut Street."

"An eye witness, huh?" I griped. "And I'm sure it was a neighbor, 'cause you and I both know who lives on Walnut."

"I'm glad we're on the same page, kiddo," my brother told me. Then he said, with some urgency, "Listen, Little-Bit, this shit ain't no joke anymore. I'm gonna need you to take care of your business with the Shepards, real quick like. I know it ain't exactly your fault, but I sure don't like being drug into shit that don't involve me."

I pressed a hand over my eyes. God help me, this is why Angela had left me alone all week. She was cooking up something much bigger. "I understand. Listen, when are they lettin' you go?"

"Monday morning."

"Shit," I muttered. "I'm gonna have to tell Mama, you know."

"Yeah. She'll be alright, though. Hey, Buck is supposed to be there with my car soon, okay? You can use it this weekend while I'm otherwise engaged. I'll see you Monday, okay, kid?"

"Okay. I love you," I effused.

"I love you too, Little-Bit."

As soon as I hung up the phone, I slammed my fist into the wall in front of me. That was one good thing about this house; the walls were solid wood. They had taken quite a beating from us other their years, but they were still standing. Even the paint peeling at the corners didn't move.

I couldn't launch into a full blown temperature tantrum, because I could already hear the car speeding down the street. First, I had to light a cigarette and talk to Buck Merril.

He was stepping out of the car as I was going outside. I was glad that I met him out there, and he didn't try to come inside. Buck was a lot older than me.

"Hey there, Little-Bit," the lanky blonde drawled. "I reckon you've already heard, but your brother got arrested. Something about a busted up car?"

"Yeah, he called and told me," I replied flatly. I blew my cigarette smoke his direction, but the cowboy didn't even blink.

"Well, he told me to bring his car to ya. You gonna be alright?" There was a gap where Buck's front teeth used to be. I found myself looking at that instead of his watery blue eyes.

"I'll be fine," I said absently. "Can I see those keys?"

"Sure thing, little lady."

I took them from him with shaking hands. "One more thing. You know where Tim Shepard might be at tonight?"

Buck looked surprised, but still, he said, "He likes to hang out at this bar downtown on Jackson. I don't know if he's there tonight though. Why ya askin' about Shepard?"

I stepped right past Buck and got into the car, starting it and reversing out of the driveway apruptly.

"What the hell?" Buck asked, throwing his arms in the air. "Ain't you gonna give me a ride home?"

"Sorry, cowboy," I called out from the road. "Thanks again though."

And then it was my turn to speed down Chickasaw like a bat out of hell.

I wanted to pick up Ponyboy, or at least let him know what had happened, but I knew that wasn't a good idea. If he was with me, I wouldn't be able to do what I needed to do.

More than that, though, I didn't want to be responsible, just in case something went wrong.

After I was off Chickasaw, then Forrester, I headed downtown. Two-Bit liked to speed, but I tried to stick to the speed limit. It was still daylight out and Mama didn't need both of her children in the cooler.

My mom worked at Mercury's Bar. Sometimes, Two-Bit would sit and drink down there, try to keep Mama company while she worked. I usually avoided the place. Call me crazy, but I didn't like going into the establishment that turned my father into a drunk and kept my mother serving drunks just like him for nearly fourteen hours a day.

So naturally, as soon as I walked in, my mother's blue eyes widened like hubcaps.

"Rosalie Lucille, what are you doing here?" She hissed, eyeing the handful of customers already sitting at the bar.

I got right to the point. "Two-Bit got arrested. He won't get out until Monday."

"Oh Jesus," she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What did he do now?"

"Well, he didn't really, not this time. It's kind of a long story," I told her. "I'm about to go take care of it, though. Do we have any money saved in case he needs bail?"

Mama cast another glance at the men parked at her bar. We walked a few steps further down.

"I did have some money put aside, for emergencies like this," she said in a horrified whisper. I could barely hear her over the honky tonk music. "But then your father called a couple of months ago."

"Jesus Christ, Mom," I groaned.

"I know you're too young to understand, Rosalie, but he had been arrested too, and he needed my help..." Mama leaned across the bar and clasped my hands in hers. "Please don't be mad. I did what I thought was right."

My eyes darted around her face for a moment, taking in the pleading blue eyes, but also the wrinkles around them, and the periwinkle eyeshadow. This was the woman who knew when all my assignments were due, and yet all these years later, she couldn't deny just handing her savings over to the man he loved. I wanted to be mad at her, but mostly, I just felt sort of empty, and tired, and far older than fourteen.

I sighed. "It's okay. We'll figure it out. Listen, I'm gonna spend the night with Carla or the Curtises tonight, just so I'm not home alone. I'll call you in the morning though."

"Okay, sweetheart. I love you. Be careful."

"I love you too, Mom."

There were several sets of eyes on me as I walked out of Mercury's. I had another cigarette lit before I even hit the door.

The reactions at Mercury's did make me realize something, though. If I walked into that bar on Jackson in my Mary Janes and my school skirt, I'd get laughed right out of there. Honestly, nothing I owned really fit the picture I had in my head either.

So I put my blinker on and headed towards back to the East side. If anyone could make me look like the ideal greaser, it was Beth Davis.

* * *

A/N: I went ahead and posted two chapters this morning because twelve didn't have a lot of action and these next couple ones are chock full of it. Hope y'all enjoyed!


	15. The Twilight Zone

Chapter Fourteen: The Twilight Zone

Sharon's car was the only one in the driveway when I pulled in, a good sign. I climbed up the wooden steps, boards coming up at the sides, and knocked on the door.

Beth answered almost immediately (probably tipped off by my brother's loud ass car). She didn't look surprised to see me which I appreciated it than I thought I would. "Well, hey, Rosalie. What are you up to?"

"Uh... it's kind of a lot to explain," I said. "Can I come in?"

"Sure. It's just me and Shar, Mom's out running errands," the bottle blonde said as she opened the door wide enough for me to pass through. "Are you okay?"

"I've been better," I replied. Once I was in their living room, I turned to face Beth and Sharon. "My brother got arrested earlier, and I'm pretty sure Curly Shepard framed him."

The older girl gasped."Oh my goodness! Why would he do that?"

"Angela Shepard and Curly Shepard's girlfriend Jennifer Price hate Rosalie right now because Rose broke up with Frank Sullivan for Ponyboy Curtis at Terry Jones' party," Beth told her sister impatiently, rolling her brown eyes. "Don't you pay attention?"

"My mistake," Sharon mumbled.

"What are you gonna do?" Beth asked excitedly. "Are you gonna fight Angela?"

"At some point, I'm sure," I sighed. "I need to take care of Curly first though, and the only way to do that is through Tim."

"Tim Shepard is dangerous, though," Sharon pointed out nervously.

"So is every other hood on this side of town," I replied dismissively. Maybe if I said, I'd believe it. "If I'm gonna talk with Tim Shepard, though, I'm gonna need a better outfit than this."

Beth squealed with excitement. "Golly, I know just the thing! Come to our room."

The blonde girl grabbed my arm and practically dragged me down the hallway. Her sister followed us, a smirk on her pretty face.

Just as I'd anticipated, Beth kept me busy for over an hour. She set my long hair in curlers and had me try on just about every outfit in her closet, it seemed. It worked, though. By six o'clock, I was a new woman.

Sharon loaned me an old plaid miniskirt of hers that was probably the shortest thing I'd ever worn. We paired it with a tight black sweater and no stockings. My legs, as pale as the moon, looked a mile long thanks to Beth's heels, even though I was still pretty short. The red lipstick that Beth had wasn't quite as deep as Jennifer's, but it would do. I looked older, maybe even old enough to pass for eighteen. I also looked like a tough greaser, the kind of girl to spit in a guy's eye if he said the wrong thing.

"Yep," I told the Davis girls, looking at myself in their bathroom mirror. "This is exactly what I needed. Thanks, y'all."

"Any time!" Beth chirped happily. "You should probably hit the road soon, though. I'm not sure what time Mama will be back."

"Yeah, okay. Do me a favor and don't tell anybody about this, okay? I'll call you tomorrow and let you know how everything goes."

"Alright. Be careful out there, Rose," she said as she walked me to the door.

"Good luck, Rosalie!"

I waved goodbye to the sisters. Then I started up the old car and headed back into town.

When I grabbed another cigarette, I realized I only had four smokes left. Thankfully, it was a Friday night, and on Friday nights in Tulsa, girls dressed like me got whatever they want.

I pulled into the shopping center on Sutton, where there was a little drugstore nestled between a laundromat and a clothing store. The manager would ask you to leave if you oooked suspicious, but with almost any of the other employees, you could practically just walk in and grab whatever you liked. Which was what I did with my pack of Kools. The girl behind the counter didn't even blink at me as I walked back out of the door, without making a purchase but still not empty-handed.

It was dark when I got back in the road. Streetlights were blazing every few feet, and the sidewalks were getting crowded with people. There was nothing else I could do to kill time, no other distraction I could think of, so I put on my left blinker and headed downtown, towards the bar on Jackson.

I worried that I'd have a hard time finding the bar, especially since it had started to rain, but the neon sign shone brightly. Jackson Street was a small little stretch of road anyway. The bar seemed to be the only business still open.

I parked as close to the door as I could, then hurried inside before the rain could mess up the curls Beth had so carefully set. Once my eyes adjusted to the dark, and the smoke, I spotted the tell-tale curls of Timothy Shepard, parked right at the bar, alone.

Before I could lose my nerve, I walked right up to him and smiled real friendly. "Hey there, Tim. You mind if I sit with you a minute?"

When the dark haired boy first turned his head, his expression was annoyed. Then I guess he realized I was a broad he didn't know, because it turned from irritation to more than polite interest. He made no attempt to hide looking me up and down. I had never been this close to Tim before, but he looked just like how I'd imagine Curly would after a few more rough years.

To my surprise (and relief), Tim grinned at me. "Go right ahead. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Coke and whiskey."

After he'd given the bartender my order, Tim turned back to me and asked, "Now where do I know you from?"

I didn't want to flirt. Flirting with Tim Shepard made me uneasy. But I knew the role I had to play here, so I might as well do it well. "You really don't know?"

The barmaid, an older woman who reminded me of my mom, slid me my drink. I smiled at her before sipping on the sweet, fiery liquid.

"I really don't," the boy said with serious blue eyes.

"I'm Rosalie Matthews - better known as Two-Bit's kid sister."

Tim tipped his head back and laughed, a long howl. Now I was thinking of Daddy again. "Lord have mercy. Little-Bit, ain't that what he calls you?"

"Yep."

They sure made the drinks strong down here. After another sip, I pulled my smokes out and offered one to him. Once mine was in my mouth, I waited patiently for Tim to light it. He did so, but without another smirk.

"Does your brother know you're down here, Little-Bit?" Tim inquired.

I took a drag off my cigarette before replying. The tip was already stained cherry red, just like my straw. "He doesn't. But that's only because my brother is in a fucking holding cell down at the Tulsa Police Station right now."

"Tough break," the older boy said dispassionately, swirling the ice cubes around in his Coke and whiskey, hold the Coke. "What'd he do?"

"Officer Schmidt claims that he busted Mr. Kolanski's car." Tim's eyes, dark blue, stayed on me as I sipped my drink again. "The only problem with that is that my brother was home all night last night. And if memory serves, Kolanski lives just a few houses down from you."

Tim looked entirely too amused as he flicked the ashes off his cigarette. The bar's dim lighting had him cast in blue and red shadows, but I could still tell that he was just a shade too wild to be handsome. He was listening to me though.

"That he does. And I do recall my kid brother and his buddy Frank goin' out the door with baseball bats last night," he said. "My only question is, why set up Two-Bit?"

My pulse spiked at the mention of Frank. I was going to personally beat the fuck out of that guy. "It's a long story, but suffice to say, both of your kid siblings are pretty god damn angry at me."

"Is it over a boy or some shit?" Tim asked.

"How'd you know?" I took another sip of my drink before admitting, "I dumped one of your boys for the guy Angela's chasing. Kind of a two for one, as far as offending Shepards goes."

Once, I thought that nobody in the world could smoke a cigarette faster than Ponyboy, but Tim Shepard had him beat. He was already stubbing his cigarette out in ashtray as he asked, "Who are the boys?"

"Frank Sullivan and Ponyboy Curtis."

Tim laughed. "Soda's kid brother?"

I didn't. "That's the one."

Tim began toying with the napkin that was supposed to be under his drink. The jukebox in the corner was playing a Buddy Holly song that I was sure the bartender had picked out. "Ang must really like this guy if she's fighting this dirty."

"Her new friend, Jennifer, has quite the mean streak. I'm guessing it's a joint effort," I said bitterly.

"Hmm. Well, that's a real interestin' story, kid, but uh... why the fuck are you here tellin' it to me?" He asked.

I took one last drag off my cigarette before putting it out next to his. I looked Shepard right in the eye. "They involved my brother. I'm involving theirs. Control your fuckin' siblings before I tell Officer Shit-for-Brains that Curly's sellin' grass at school."

"You're treading in dangerous waters, kid." Tim leaned forward, his face in blue light from a neon sign in the bar. "I could just have you killed, or taken off somewhere. Did you think about that?"

I had not. But I tilted my head and lit another cigarette so he wouldn't know. The jukebox changed to Fever by Peggy Lee, which helped, somehow. "My brother would just kill you, then Curly would probably murder Ponyboy, and it would turn into a whole blood bath. Chickasaw Street doesn't need another murder. Especially when you can handle this quietly."

Tim grabbed another smoke too. He looked at me for a moment, dark eyes unreadable, before saying, "What is it you want from me?"

"Get Kolanski to drop the charges, and tell Curly and Angela to leave the Matthews alone."

"Let's wager," Tim smiled, ever the businessman. His voice was practically dripping with condescension, but I didn't say a word. "Kolanski won't be an issue. Neither will Curly. But you and Angela can fight your own little battles, and the same goes for Sullivan and Curtis. Sound fair?"

Sounded like the best deal I was going to get. "Tuff enough."

Tim learned forward again, but this time, he put the hand that wasn't clutching a cigarette on my shoulder. The look in his dark eyes was more brotherly than boyfriendly. "Listen, kid, some advice: you're a pretty girl, and you seem like an alright kid. Don't try to play games that you don't know the rules to. Not everybody is going to be as nice as me."

I raised an eyebrow. "Tim Shepard, nice?"

"Don't try to act so tough, either," the older boy said firmly. He reminded me of Darry's lectures, and out of everything that had happened in this bar, that's what surprised me the most. "Two-Bit and the Curtises and them - y'all are good people. You ought to stay that way."

It felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. I blinked at him. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Tim."

"Don't mention it. Drinks are on me tonight, kid, 'cause I like your brother. Hopefully I won't see you again."

He set down a few bills on the bar, then picked up another cigarette. Tim Shepard walked out whistling to Nancy Sinatra.

The bartender was already putting another drink in front of me as Tim walked out the door. I decided I might as well smoke another cigarette and drink it.

I sat at that bar and drank Coke and whiskey for a long time. The exchange with Tim unsettled me. On top of that, I knew before I ever left the house that I couldn't stay with the Hendersons; Carla's mom was way too high strung for that right now. My only options were staying alone at my house - which, depending on just how vengeful Angela was feeling, might not be the best idea. Or I could sleep on the Curtis' couch. Because of how much alcohol I was consuming, though, I wanted to wait until everybody would be asleep.

Around 11:30, I left the bar. I was probably too drunk to drive, but Two-Bit had been letting me behind the wheel since he got this car three years ago. I made it back home safe and sound - and without attracting the fuzz.

Before I went to the Curtis', I wanted to change out of my miniskirt and wash my face. It was spooky being alone, especially this inebriated. I felt a little better once I put on Pony's shirt that Darry had given me the other day and the long, soft pants I'd sewn for pajamas, but still, I kept looking over my shoulder. The walk down the street to their house was even worse, but Two-Bit's car was so loud, I was scared that I'd wake somebody up.

Like always, the front door at the Curtis' house was unlocked. When I stepped inside, it was dark and quiet, save for Darry's snoring. I was grateful to hear it, though. That meant no one was awake to lecture me.

Quietly, I got the quilt out of the closet that the boys always used when somebody came over. Even that simple action made me feel like I was ten years old again.

I wasn't a kid anymore, though. I was a greaser girl, and we get to be kids. We got to go to dark bars and flirt with hoods nearly a decade older, we got to wear miniskirts and cuss when we were angry. But we definitely never got to be innocent children.


	16. War and Peace

Chapter **Fifteen: War and Peace**

The front window of the Curtis' living room began to glow an orange-yellow as soon as the sun rose. Though the time hadn't changed for fall quite yet, the light still woke me early, the way it always did when I slept on their couch.

It was nearly six when I stood. Nobody else was up yet. I stumbled into the kitchen, bleary eyed. Now that I was sober, and in daylight, it occurred to me that there weren't many options for how my morning was about to go. Either Darry already knew about my brother's arrest, and he was going to kill me for disappearing, or I was going to have to tell him, and then he was going to kill me. Either way, Darrel and I were both going to need some coffee.

The strong, bitter smell quickly drew him up and into the kitchen, just as I suspected. When the older boy saw me leaned up against the counter, waiting for him, mug in one hand and a cigarette in another, his sleepy eyes narrowed even more.

"Rosalie." Darry kept his voice low, so as not to wake up the other boys, but it was still fierce. "Where the hell were you last night?"

I took another sip of coffee, ever cool and casual. "Did you hear about Two-Bit?"

"In the cooler for busting some guy's car. Soda heard at work," he said, pulling out a mug and pouring his own drink. Darry took his coffee plain and black. "That don't tell me where you were, Rose."

"Curly Shepard busted that car, not my brother."

Darry's face twisted into a scowl. "Pony thought that whenever he heard who the guy was. Why'd y'all have to go and start beef with the Shepards?"

"It's ain't exactly my fault that Angela has an eye for Ponyboy," I snapped. "I took care of it though, okay? I went and talked to Tim last night, and he said he'll -"

Darry exploded. That vein is his forehead began to throb but somehow, his voice stayed just above a whisper. "You did what with Tim Shepard?!"

"I explained the situation, and asked him to calm the other two down."

"Where?" He demanded.

"Some bar downtown," I mumbled.

"You know he could've killed you, Rosalie? Or beaten you up, or let one of his guys do it?" Darry had set his cup down to fully focus his glare on me. "You don't even realize how stupid that was."

I frowned at him. Nobody berated me the way Darry did, and god damn, it made my skin crawl. "I didn't exactly have a choice, alright? I had to get the situation under control before it got any worse. We're just lucky that nobody has gone after Pony yet."

"You keep on actin' this way, Rosalie, I might need to keep Ponyboy away from you,"

I slammed my coffee mug down, sloshing liquid onto the counter. My finger shook wildly as I pointed at him. "I'm sorry, but that's bull, and you know it. You can say what you want about me, Darrel Curtis. You can say that I'm mean and violent and a no good greaser brat, and I won't argue, 'cause it's true. But don't you _dare_ try to say I'm not good for that boy. Don't you dare."

My favorite method of ending arguments like this was storming out and walking home. It may have been early in the morning, but that didn't stop me. Darry didn't either. I grabbed my shoes and my purse and slammed the door behind me, probably waking Soda and Ponyboy in the process. Even as angry as I was, I couldn't help the splash of guilt that came with that thought. It wasn't their fault that Darry kept trying to parent me when I was doing just fine.

In my fury, I honestly forgot about my actual parent. My bare feet slapped the pavement of the sidewalk, then my front porch steps, undeterred. When I barged into my own living room, expecting it to be empty, I don't know who was more shocked - me or Mama.

"Rosalie?" She questioned. Sitting on the couch, drinking a glass of milk and reading a romance novel, she looked just as she did every other Saturday morning. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

I opened my mouth, intending to tell her that I was fine. Instead, a half sob quaked out. The whiskey last night, the lack of sleep, my argument with Darry, even worry over Two-Bit came crashing down on me so hard, it's a wonder I didn't fall over. Instead, I cried.

Mama, to her credit, set her book and glass down to come wrap her arms around me, surrounding me with the smell of cigarette smoke and sweet perfume. Sympathetically, she murmured, "Rose, it's alright. Two-Bit will be fine, this isn't the first time he's been arrested."

"It's my fault this time, though," I wailed. "The Shepards were mad at me, and the only thing I could think to do was go tattle-tale to their big brother. Now Darry says he might keep me away from Pony."

"I'm sure he didn't mean that," Mama told me. As grateful as I was for her comfort, in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but think that my mom didn't really know Darry very well at all if she thought that he made empty threats. Fuck Tim Shepard, Darrel Curtis Jr. could terrify me.

"I _like_ Ponyboy." The more I said it, the better it felt, even in such an uncomfortable moment. "I don't see how so much trouble came just from wanting to kiss a boy."

She smiled with only one half of her mouth as she replied, "Oh, Rose. Love is usually the source of all trouble, I hate to say."

"I haven't even told Ponyboy yet," I pouted. "And now I'm wondering if I even should."

"Of course you should," Mama said. "If it's the truth, you should always say how you feel."

But that logic didn't always work, especially on the East side. I never talked about my feelings for Johnny, or how Daddy leaving had torn a hole right through my chest. It was hard to see this situation as any different.

"Why don't you change clothes, and I'll make some breakfast?" My mom suggested. "Food always makes you feel better."

"Yeah, okay," I agreed. Her comfort getting stifling anyway. As good as she was to me, we didn't have too many heart to hearts like this. It made me feel vulnerable, like a small animal on the side of the road.

There was a big part of me that wanted to crawl into my bed and wrap the quilt around me until I couldn't move. But even I knew I wouldn't have been able to fall back asleep anyway. Carla and Beth would probably call me at some point, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping that Pony did too. It was a Saturday, after all.

The air smelled of bacon when I went back into the hallway, the only thing I liked better for breakfast than peanut butter. Mama was talking with someone, which didn't make sense until I heard a familiar soft laugh.

"Hey, Ponyboy, I didn't hear you come in," I said as I entered the kitchen. As glad as I was to see him, my pride made me quip, "Darry okay with you slummin' it over here?"

Pony raised an eyebrow. "He actually wanted me to tell you that he's sorry."

"An apology from Darrel? Miracles abound." I made my second cup of coffee for the morning while I spoke. Hopefully, I could actually finish this one.

"Don't be like that, Rose. He feels real bad about the whole thing. He wanted to come down here and tell you that himself, but Soda thought that you'd yell, or hit him, or somethin'."

Piling bacon and toast onto a plate, I smiled wryly at Pony. "Listen, I'm supposed to be a smart girl. Do you really think I would just throw a punch at Superman?"

Mama and Ponyboy both laughed. Between that and sitting down next to the copper haired boy to eat my breakfast, I felt mighty warm.

My mom took a seat too, and for a few minutes, the three of us were quiet, save for the sound of crunching bacon. It was nice to be with the both of them, but it made me miss my wise-cracking big brother. There was no such thing as a quiet meal with Two-Bit.

Finally, wiping her fingers on a rag, Mama asked, "What are you kids up to today?"

Pony answered, "Well, Sodapop's birthday is in a week, and I was gonna have Two-Bit to drive me downtown to get him something. I don't know now that's he's locked up for the weekend though."

"Ponyboy, did you not notice the rust bucket still sitting in the driveway?" I giggled.

"Two-Bit still has the keys, though, don't he?"

"Nope," I said. "Buck Merril brought 'em to me with the car."

"Buck Merril was over here?" He yelped.

"I left him here too. Drove right off without him," I grinned.

Mama chuckled into her eggs. Ponyboy tried to hide his smile, but failed. Suddenly, I wished my mom wasn't sitting next to us, so I could ask if he was jealous.

"I'm sure Two-Bit wouldn't mind if y'all took the car," Mama said.

I teased, "You can chauffeur me around again."

He was pink when he grinned back at me.

If I didn't kiss this boy soon, I was gonna lose my mind.


	17. Pale Fire

Chapter Sixteen: Pale Fire

Frank and I had gone on three dates before the great party debacle. Before that, over the summer, Bobby Briggs took me to the drive-in once. I ended up walking home alone after he tried to put his hand up my blouse (and I blacked his eye). Then there was the fling with Eddie Washington in eighth grade: five dates, two makeout sessions, and he dumped me for Polly Gardener. So all in all, I had a good handful of dates under my belt.

Not one of them filled my stomach with butterflies the way that Ponyboy did, just by opening my car door.

Mama, with a smile that implied she knew exactly what she was doing, ushered me and Pony out the front door as soon as we finished our bacon. I knew this was her way of trying to help, and I appreciated that, but gosh, I was nervous now that Ponyboy and I were alone in the car together.

"Have you thought about what you want to get for Soda?" I asked, mostly just to fill the silence, before he asked about last night, or me and Darry's fight, or, well, anything.

Pony went along, replying thoughtfully, "I'm not too sure. He did lose his wallet last week."

"He might just lose the one you get for him," I joked.

The boy grinned, but he kept his eyes on the road. "You ain't wrong, Rosie."

I rolled the window down, then lit a cigarette as I mused, "I could swipe him a blade. I was thinkin' I needed one for myself, anyway."

"Neither one of y'all needs one," Ponyboy said flatly. "You can skin fight just fine, and nobody catches charges that way."

Which was all well and good in theory, but what did I do if someone else pulled a knife on me? I didn't want to go there though. I had just noticed that he was wearing a dark green t-shirt, and the color looked real nice against his skin.

"Now who's the responsible one?" I teased.

"Still you, from what I hear," he said.

"What do you mean?"

Pony wrangled his own pack of Kools out of the pocket of his jeans. It had been a while since he carried his own, since he tried to cut down for track last year. I could always supply smokes for the both of us; he joked that smoking mine kept him in line. Less than half of the white sticks remained was in his pack, confirming that I must not have been the only one feeling a little stressed lately.

"Darry said you went to Tim Shepard to handle Angela and Curly. That was clever. I would have never thought to do that," Pony said, exhaling smoke.

Like all the Matthews before me, I could hide behind jokes for as long as I wanted, but like all the Curtises before him, he was going to get to the truth eventually. It was as constant and as inevitable as the changing tides.

"It was my best option, but your brother was right. It was still dumb as hell," I replied. "Tim told me himself that he could have me killed."

Ponyboy grew pale at that. His cigarette trembled, just for a second, as he flicked on the turn signal. We were downtown now, deep within Tulsa's concrete jungle, the building reflecting off puddles from last night's rain.

"Then Tim said that he'd get Kolanski to drop the charges, and he'd call off Curly," I continued, gentler this time. "I don't know if it was the booze or what, but he even gave me some speech about how I was 'too nice to play games I don't know the rules to'. To tell you the truth, I still don't know what to make of that one."

"Huh," Pony said. "I guess he and Dally always were cut from the same cloth."

I scoffed, flicking ash out the window. "Dallas Winston? He hated me. One time he came over while your mom was cleaning me up from some fight, and he called me a trashy brat. Your mama had to tell him to leave so I wouldn't pummel him."

To my surprise, Pony laughed. "That sounds like him. You didn't really know him though. He wasn't such a bad guy, just messed up."

The same could probably be said for me.

"Dallas said something like that to Johnny once," Pony went on. "We were driving back to the church in Windrixville, and Johnny said we should turn ourselves in. Dally got real upset. He said that he didn't want Johnny to get hard like he did."

"It's strange to imagine tough Dallas Winston getting upset over anything," I admitted. "Even Johnny."

He took another hard drag off his cigarette. "The funny thing was, when we drove to the hospital after the rumble, he was the exact opposite. He kept saying 'If you get tough, nothin' can hurt you.' I think he just wanted that to be true more than anything though."

I was stunned. Staring at the dashboard mindlessly, all I could think to say was, "You never told me that you two went to the hospital after the rumble."

"I just figured that Two-Bit told you everything," Pony replied. He sounded just as shocked as me.

"Nope. All I know is what was in the Tulsa Times. And what I saw out of my bedroom window."

The boy went as white as a ghost. Worldlessly, he threw his cigarette out the window, then pried one of my hands out of my lap, lacing his fingers through mine.

"We can talk about all this another time, okay?" Ponyboy said softly. "I know you're already worried about Two-Bit and the Shepards and everything. We should try to have a good day."

I smiled, rubbing my thumb across the top of his hand. I was desperate to return his unwavering sweetness, to comfort him back, but I had absolutely no idea how to say so. So I just said, "Okay."

We rode in silence for a while. Eventually, Pony pulled into one of the shopping centers, parking in front of Horne's department store.

"You must be feelin' fancy," I remarked as I exited the vehicle. There weren't many others in the parking lot, thankfully. "Horne's ain't exactly cheap."

Pony flushed red and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, you see, I'd intended on comin' here with Two-Bit..."

I gasped dramatically, but my giggle kind of ruined it. "Don't tell me you were lookin' for a Matthews discount."

"He's done it for me before," Ponyboy said, turning an even deeper shade of crimson. "I don't like it, but Two-Bit is gonna lift something either way. It might as well he something useful sometimes, you know?"

The glass doors of Horne's were so clean, they sparkled. Pony held one open for me, and I entered a world that, for me, was usually reserved to magazines. Mannequins were everywhere, and decked out in the most gorgeous dresses I'd ever seen, price tags I didn't even want to look at dangling from the arm. This was the kind of place the Socs shopped at.

"Let's hope we don't run into Jennifer again, huh?" I mumbled to Pony with a nudge.

His chuckle was distracted, as busy as he was eyeing the cashier nervously. He didn't need to worry, though; the girl was sitting on a stool, pouring over a textbook and furiously scribbling down notes. She looked older than us. When we walked by her, she didn't even glance up.

Ponyboy and I made our way past what seemed like a dozen beautiful, blank mannequins, dressed in shades of purple and blue and red, before we reached the men's department. It was all sweaters this time of year, thick wool that football players loaned to their girlfriends to wear in class. The wallets, tucked off into a corner, would've been an easy target even if the clerk wasn't in her own world.

"Brown or black, you think?" Pony asked.

"Definitely brown," I replied. "Go for real leather, too. You only turn eighteen once."

He eyed me uncomfortably. "Rosie, are you sure about this?"

"Listen, I've been acquiring lipstick and cigarettes the old fashioned way since sixth grade. Besides, do you remember what I got Two-Bit for Christmas last year?" I questioned, now looking through the different brown wallets myself. It needed nice stitching.

"A new switchblade?"

"Do you really think I bought that?"

Pony sighed, but he didn't say anything else. Like it or not, he knew the score just as well as I did. It's not like either one of us could afford a damn thing in that store anyway.

"What about this one?" He asked after a minute.

It was simple, light brown with darker seams, but it was made well. If Soda could keep from losing it, it would last him for years.

"Good choice. Give it here."

With one more apprehensive look, Ponyboy did as I asked. Typically, there had to be a bit more finesse involved in shoplifting, but in this case, there were no witnesses to worry about. So I just stuffed the wallet in my purse, at the very bottom, underneath the makeup and the Kools and the three dollar bills I had left. Pony looked away.

"Can we get out of here now?" He asked.

"Not yet," I said. "Don't wanna look suspicious. Come on, let's go back up to the women's stuff."

It was more of an excuse to look at the girls' clothes than anything else, but Pony humored me. He didn't seem to mind though. When I ran the sleeve of a red velvet dress between my fingers, he even smiled.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" I inquired pleasantly.

"I remember in middle school, you wore a red dress sorta like that to the winter dance," he admitted. "You looked real nice."

Glory, I practically had to pick my jaw up off the floor. I whirled so I was standing in front of him. "Pony, that was seventh grade. We weren't even friends back then."

"I know. That's why I didn't ask you to dance or anythin'. I honestly didn't think you'd give me the time of day," he said.

I grinned widely. Hopefully he didn't know the suddenly erratic breathing. "Why, 'cause I'm so mean?"

"No." His eyes, green and gorgeous and glowing, were focused right onto mine. "Because you're so pretty."

"Oh my goodness, now we really do have to get out of here, before I explode all over these nice clothes."

I grabbed his hand and led him past the mannequins, past the distracted cashier. We were almost to the shiny glass doors when I heard, "Hey, wait a minute!"

My body strained forward, ready to bolt. Ponyboy turned. The cashier had stood up, but curiously enough, she was smiling.

"Aren't you Darry's kid brother?" She asked him.

"Yeah," Pony replied cautiously. "Who are you?"

"My name is Elaine," the girl beamed. Now that she was looking at us, I saw that she was around Darry's age, and cute, with dark hair was cut to her chin and pretty brown eyes. "I work at this diner on Woodward during the week. He comes in there for lunch sometimes. You look a little like him, and he mentioned he had a kid brother once..."

"Really?" Pony raised an eyebrow, then shot me a mischievous look before continuing, "You know, we have another brother too. He's actually having a party next weekend for his birthday, out on Chickasaw. I'm sure Darry would be glad to see you if you want to come out."

Elaine's round face lit up. "I'll do that. Thank you."

"No problem."

As soon as the doors closed behind us, I grabbed Ponyboy's arm and giggled. "I can't believe you just got Darry a date!"

"He needs it. Maybe he'll leave you alone if he's got a girl to distract him," Pony joked.

"True enough," I said. "I didn't even know Soda was having a party."

"Oh yeah, he wanted to go all out for this one," Pony told me.

When we reached my brother's rust bucket, the mahogany haired boy leaned against it and lit another cigarette. His hands were shaking again, but I didn't know why.

Just as I was about to ask what on earth was the matter with him, he spoke. The words came out so quickly that they nearly blurred together, but I could just make out, "Rosie, do you want to go with me to Soda's party?"

How sweet that sounded after this past twenty-four hours. This past two weeks. Hell, the entire last year. In the nearly fifteen years I'd been on this planet, I never felt so pleased, and so relieved. Ponyboy liked me too. All of that trouble wasn't for nothing. In fact, it might really mean something.

Ponyboy and I could really be something.

Before I got ahead of myself, I decided then and there that I was done beating around the bush with him. So I asked. "Do you mean as a date?"

He kept those eyes on me, even if his smoke was still shaking. "If you want."

"Yes, I do," I beamed. "That sounds great."

Ponyboy's returning smile was even brighter than the Oklahoma sunshine. The warmth that radiated off of him melted away all the worries I was carrying - at least for now.


	18. Why Do Fools Fall in Love?

**Chapter Seventeen: Why Do Fools Fall in Love?**

When I thought about Rosie, the first thing that came to my mind was always warmth: that bright smile, the heat of her skin. The little shorts she sometimes wore in the summertime. Rosalie Matthews was like a flame, burning up the East side of Tulsa. And yet somehow, one of my favorite memories with her was also one of the coldest nights of my life.

It was a week before Christmas, 1965. The first one without my parents, or Johnny, or Dally. Everyone acted real concerned about me after the trial and everything, but I hated it. The worry was a heavy, smothering blanket wrapped around my face and neck. If I tried to breathe, I'd choke.

That's why I liked hanging out with Rosie. She didn't look at me like she felt sorry for me. She teased me, but she was never mean. And when I quoted a movie or an author, she usually knew just what I was talking about.

She was awfully pretty, too. Everybody knew that.

We were sitting on her front steps, smoking cigarettes. It was a Wednesday, but school was out for Christmas, so Two-Bit was off at some party. Rosie had stayed at my house for dinner. Sodapop had offered to drive her home, but she told him it was silly to drive a block. I would have walked her home even if Darry hadn't told me to. In the couple of months since everything had happened, the Socs had calmed down, but I still didn't like the idea of Rosie walkin' alone.

"If the ghost of Christmas past came up in your room tonight, would you go with it?" She asked, exhaling smoke. We'd been talking about A Christmas Carol, 'cause she reread it every year.

"Maybe not," I said. "I'd certainly follow the ghost of Christmas future, though."

Maybe it was just me, but everything looked like it was a black and white movie: the white snow, the shadowy house. Her pale skin, her long dark hair.

"Pony, the whole point is you have to get through the past before you can see the future," Rosie replied indignantly. "Have you even read the book?"

"I haven't, actually. We just read Great Expectations in English, though."

The brunette threw her hands up, her cigarette tightly gripped between two fingers. Her nails were painted candy apple red. "What the hell? Are you serious? It's one of my favorite books."

"I thought Jane Eyre was your favorite," I teased.

"Well, that's my _very_ favorite," she said. "A Christmas Carol is just on the list."

I couldn't help but grin. She usually had that effect on me. "You've put some thought into this, haven't you?"

But Rosie didn't reply. She leaned forward, her blue eyes gone cold as they focused on something past me, down the street. From the way she looked, I thought it was the fuzz or Socs or something.

"What - ?" I whipped around to see for myself.

A loud thud came from the Cades' house - a door slamming. Once, that sound might not have been so out of the ordinary.

Mr. and Mrs. Cade didn't yell as much now that Johnny was gone. Sometimes I wished they would, just to fill the quiet. Matter of fact, they were laughing as they walked to their car that night. Mrs. Cade was in a long red dress, and it looked like Mr. Cade was wearing a necktie.

"They're going to a fucking Christmas party."

"Yeah," I said softly. "I think they are."

"I can't believe that!" Rosie exploded. Oblivious to us, the engine cut on, and the car began to back out. "How can they go celebrate? Don't they feel bad at all?"

I didn't want to, but I thought of Johnny's mom at the hospital, and her hard, cheap eyes. "Probably not."

"What assholes."

They had finished pulling out now. Their tail lights lit up Chickasaw Street, and Rosie's angry face, until they turned the corner and disappeared.

I didn't know what to say. To tell you the truth, every time I saw Mrs. Cade, it hurt just like it had that day. And it sure didn't feel good to see Rosie that hacked off. Her eyes were blazing storms, fixed on the Cade house.

"You know, Soda and Steve were the ones to throw toilet paper all over the house," she told me slowly. "Two-Bit even left dog shit in their mailbox."

"I don't even wanna know how he got that," I said wryly.

"I have a carton of eggs in the fridge in there," Rosie continued casually. "Not nearly as messy."

I turned and raised an eyebrow, pulling a Matthews on a Matthews. "Whatcha saying, Rosie?"

"I'm saying we ought to throw all dozen of 'em at those assholes' house," she grinned. "They'll be even harder to clean up when they're frozen."

"What if someone sees us? I can't get in anymore trouble, Darry'll skin me."

"We'll be careful. Nobody will see, I promise. Come on, Ponyboy," she pleaded."It'll be our Christmas present to Johnny."

Me and Rosie never talked about Johnny, at least if we could help it. I think that might've been the first time I ever even heard her say his name. It spooked me enough that I stood up.

"Alright. Let's do it."

Rosie's face lit up brighter than her Christmas tree. She ran into the house so fast, I thought she'd fall. Before I could change my mind, she was back, egg carton in hand.

"Come on," she whispered excitedly.

I followed her down the steps. It occurred to me that I probably would've followed her anywhere, but I tried to push that thought away.

The Cades were only two houses down from Rosie's. In less than a minute, we were standing in their front yard, snow under our feet. It sure was cold.

Rosie looked at me. I looked at Rosie.

"You go first," I said finally. "It was your idea. Do the honors."

She nodded, then handed me the eggs. Rosie surveyed the carton for a second, then plucked one out real delicately. Then she wrenched her arm back before heaving it right at the front door. It broke with a loud, satisfying crack.

When she turned to look at me again, Rosie's smile was even wider than her eyes. "Your turn."

The egg was cold and smooth in my hand. It felt good to pitch it across the yard. Like playing football.

"Nice one," she giggled approvingly. "Bet I can hit their bedroom window."

It started to snow again, a few fat white flakes sticking to her hair. Rosie paid it no mind. She was too enthralled. Her next one smacked against the glass, just like she wanted.

"Good arm."

"Thanks. I punch a lot of people."

If Soda or Darry looked outside and saw me, I was dead. But I still laughed, at Rosie and at the situation. It felt real nice to stand out there and laugh with her.

"Merry Christmas, Johnny," I said before tossing the next one.

We had two eggs left when headlights flooded the street.

"Shit, shit, shit, run!" Rosie cried.

I dropped the eggs and grabbed her hand. Together, we ran down to her house and hid behind the overgrown bushes by the porch.

"Did you think it's the Cades?" I whispered.

She turned to me, a finger pressed to her lips. "Ssh!"

Rosie was still grinning wildly. Her eyelashes were covered in snowflakes, but her blue eyes were sparkling. We were close enough that I could feel her warm breath on my face.

I wanted to kiss her. I'd never even kissed a girl then, but I sure wanted to kiss Rosie.

Until then, I had tried not to notice that Rosie was the best looking girl I'd ever seen, that she had even Cherry Valance beat when she smiled at me. And of course I knew that she was funny and smart and genuinely kind. But I had tried real hard not to let myself think about her as anything other than my friend - and Two-Bit's sister. Covered in snow though, squished together behind a shrub, and still holding her small, warm hand, I had to admit it.

I had a crush on Rosalie Matthews.

"It's just the Hendersons," Rosie breathed. I jumped, startled. "Carl's mama must be off work."

"Glory, that scared me."

"Wasn't it kinda fun, though?" She asked mischievously, standing up. Our hands finally fell apart. Mine felt as cold as the ice on her porch.

"Just a little," I admitted.

Rosie punched my arm, but that grin never left her face. "Wanna smoke a cigarette with me?"

I did. But I was scared that if I sat with her much longer, that urge to kiss her pretty face would just get stronger, and I'd be in real trouble then.

"You oughta to go inside, Rosie, it's freezing out here," I said gently.

"Fine. You're a bore." She sighed, but I could tell she wasn't real mad or anything. Rosie was as dramatic as her brother. It wasn't exactly cute when Two-Bit did it though.

"I just committed vandalism with you!" I protested. "How's that boring?"

"Ugh! Will you at least take home A Christmas Carol?" She pouted.

"Of course, Rosie." I couldn't help but laugh.

While she ran inside to retrieve the book, I looked up at the sky. It was cloudy, and freezing cold, but still real nice. A good night to remember.

Just a minute later, she returned again, this time with another old paperback. My reading catalogue had expanded since I met her, that was for certain. And I sure liked the sight of her clutching a book and beaming.

"Here you go!" She said triumphantly. "Will you start it tonight?"

"Sure, if Soda doesn't make me help him with the cake," I said.

Rosie giggled. "Maybe help your brother, then read. They're better when you make 'em, anyway. I'll see you tomorrow, Ponyboy. Good night."

"Good night, Rosie. See you then."

I watched her walk up the porch steps and through the front door before turning back towards my own house. Tucking the book into my jacket to keep it safe, I took my time with the short walk, rolling over the events of the night in my head. Mostly though, I thought about Rosie.

As much as I'd wanted to kiss her, I was glad I didn't - not then, anyway. It was still too soon. Darry would lose his mind if I tried to date anybody, and Two-Bit would laugh me off of Chickasaw Street. And then there was Johnny.

Rosie had liked Johnny. She didn't have to tell me. I had seen her the day he got jumped, staring out her bedroom window. Her face looked just like that my folks' funeral. I knew from the way she looked at the house when she walked past now, and how she flinched when anybody talked about him. There were some things that just didn't have to be said.

If you want to know the truth, I had always noticed Rosalie Matthews. She was cute even when we were kids, and she grew up real pretty. Her name was always at the top of the class, beating out even Socs. Even though she also spent a lot of time beating up people too, I always thought there was something interesting about her. I'd never talk to her, 'cause Two-Bit would've knocked my head in. But sometimes I'd watch her during the school dances, or walking home with her friends, and think about makin' conversation. It was just another one of my daydreams - until she walked into me and Soda's room that day.

Would she have done that if Johnny were still here? Would we have ever become friends, if it weren't for everything that happened? I didn't want to think about that.

I was gonna have to wait things out for a while. Rosie may have been beautiful, and she may have understood me in ways that knocked me off my feet, but things were still... fragile. It would be a while before they weren't.

But, for the time being, I certainly enjoyed committing petty vandalism with her - especially when the Cades put up a For Sale sign a few days later.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey guys. Long time no see. Things got messy, but we're back. Hopefully this cute little Ponyboy PoV makes up for my nearly year long absence, and hopefully, I got his tone right. I'm a little rusty. Please let me know what you think!


	19. Jailhouse Rock

**Chapter Eighteen: Jailhouse Rock**

"Rosalie Lucille!"

I covered my face with a pillow, but it was no use. No amount of burying my head or bitching would change the fact that it was now Monday morning, and my mother was standing at my doorway, entirely too loud for the early hour.

"Mama..." I groaned into the cotton pillowcase.

"Come on, Rosalie, it's time to get up. We have to go get your brother."

Well. _That_ sprung me out of bed like an electric shock. I was up so fast, my big toe hit the edge of my dresser. The can of hairspray teetered for a moment, before falling onto my other foot.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ!"

"Rosalie!" From the look of horror on Mama's face, you'd think I'd kicked her puppy or something. "What have I told you about your language?"

Mama got anxious any time we had to go to the police station. And when she was anxious, she could be... well, a little high-strung. Holding in an eye roll, I recited back to her, "Young ladies don't curse."

"That's right. Now hurry up and get dressed, honey, it's already 7:30."

When she exited into the hallway, I stuck my tongue out in my mother's direction. Greaser girls cussed plenty.

In minutes, I had scrambled into some semblance of a ponytail and a dress. The police station opened to the public at 8am, and the sooner we got Two-Bit out, the better. Mama may have been anxious around the fuzz, but my brother sure wasn't - even when he ought to be.

There was no time for peanut butter or bacon this morning. Mama had made a pot of coffee, but she must have been up for a whole, 'cause it was lukewarm and half full by the time I got to it. My sugar barely dissolved. Desperate times called for desperate measures, though - I knocked a cup back like it was Coke and whiskey.

"Do you know where your shoes are?" Mama questioned, stubbing her cigarette out into the ashtray.

"By my bedroom door." That's why they were every day, but I tried real hard not to sound impatient - even if I felt it. Because I had a question too. "Mama?"

She was already standing and grabbing her purse. "What, honey?"

"Did you get any money?"

For a second, my mother looked like somebody had knocked the wind out of her. The blue in her eyes went dimmer somehow. Then she straightened up and swung her bag onto her shoulder, a fake smile plastered onto her face. "Of course I did, Little-Bit."

Lord have mercy. I hoped for my brother's sake that she was telling the truth. Even if I didn't even want to think about how she'd come up with cash on two days notice.

After I got my shoes out of my bedroom, just where I knew they'd be, I followed Mama out the door. She looked uncomfortable as she got into the driver's seat of the rust bucket. She didn't really do a lot of driving. Even when she started working at the bar, she was friends with the owner, a sweet, burly man named Bishop, who usually gave her a ride. Two-Bit sometimes worried that Bishop might try to get handsy with Mama, but she assured us both often that Bishop didn't like people like her. It took me a long while to figure out what she meant by that.

She kept both hands firmly on the wheel, eyes planted on the road ahead, no music and no conversation. It sure was a stark difference to riding around with Pony on Saturday. I tried not to miss him as I looked out the window, watching the residential roads turn into the city. He was in second period right now, probably doodling instead of paying attention. I wondered if maybe, he was thinking about me.

Traffic was pretty calm for a Monday morning. We arrived at the station right at 8 o'clock, despite Mama doing five below the speed limit the whole way. Some big old lady had beat us there, and she was already talking to the receptionist when we walked in. Mama and I were forced to take a seat.

Mama lit a cigarette. My fingers itched for one, but now was certainly not the time, so I laced them together and put my hands over my knees. My dress was too short anyway.

The old lady must have been hard of hearing, because she sure was loud. "There was someone in my garden on Saturday morning, I am telling you!"

"Calm down, ma'am," the secretary said in an even, calm voice. She looked like Mrs. Price, right down to the pearls. "You said you lived over on St. James Street?"

The ritzy neighborhood. Naturally.

"I've lived at 508 St. James Street for sixty years!" The woman declared."I know all of my neighbors, and so does little Trixie. She would not have gone after someone familiar."

"Of course, ma'am, of course. What kind of dog is Trixie?" The receptionist practically cooed.

"A Boston Terrier. She's five now but she's still sprightly as a puppy."

Mama flicked her cigarette irritably. Meanwhile, my knuckles were turning white.

"She sounds adorable, Mrs. Melnick." If that receptionist smiled any bigger, her jaw was gonna pop off. Good grief. "Go ahead and fill out this paperwork, and I'll let the officers know that you're here, okay?"

"Tell them it is urgent!" Mrs. Melnick insisted.

"I will, ma'am, I promise. Why don't you sit down while you fill that out?"

When the old lady hobbled around, her face contorted. It was almost funny how quick her face dropped into a scowl. Almost.

God forbid she have to sit next to poor people, Mrs. Melnick shuffled all the way to the other side of the waiting room. The secretary, true to her word, hopped up immediately, walking down the long hallway. Her heels clicked with every step.

Mama put her cigarette out, glancing at the gray woman with a guilty expression. Maybe she was thinking of Aunt Lucille and her sour demeanor. Mrs. Melnick was about her size, too.

Finally, the receptionist returned to her chair, calling out, "I can help whoever is next."

I stood first, but Mama was right at my heels. The blonde behind the desk did a better job of hiding her distaste than the old woman, at least on her face.

"Can I help you?" She asked coolly.

"Um, I'm here to pick up my son. He was... uh, being held over the weekend?" Mama's hands may have been tightly wound around her purse, but I could still see her knees shaking. Mrs. Melnick probably could too. Glory, you'd think she hadn't done this for Two-Bit more than a few times - or her ex-husband, only months ago, apparently.

The blonde cut off Mama's ums and uhs with clipped tones. "Name, please?"

"Keith Matthews."

She opened a folder, flipping through a few pages before stating, "That'll be $350,"

Mama's eyes widened. "B-but they said it $300 over the phone!"

"It says here that Mr. Matthews caused a disturbance yesterday, so his bail was raised."

I was gonna slap the shit out of my brother, right after he paid our mother back with some of that God damn gambling money from Buck Merril. Jesus.

Mama pulled out a small stack of twenties, counting out $300 with trembling hands. Then she started digging.

The next twenty came out pretty quick. But it took a few more minutes for her to locate a ten. Mrs. Melnick had given up on her paperwork completely, watching my mother fish around in her purse like it was a TV show. Mama's face was red as a tomato.

I pulled my shoe off. The fat old lady gasped openly. Rolling my eyes, I pulled a twenty dollar bill of my own out of my Mary Jane and slapped it down on the counter. The receptionist looked at the money like it had legs.

"There's your $350. Can I see my brother now?"

The secretary huffed, but collected the bills. "One moment please."

As soon as she was down the hallway, Mama turned to me. Her eyes on the old woman, she whispered, "Rosalie, where did you get that money?"

"I found it in Two-Bit's car," I told her. Which was true. I'd cleaned it out for him on Sunday, and discovered the cash in the floorboard. Lord only knew how old it was, so I didn't feel bad pocketing it. I wanted to get Soda a birthday present too, and a new dress for the party. So much for that idea. "Where did _you_ get that money, Mama?"

Her face, which had just barely returned to its normal color, flushed red again. She opened her mouth, stammering.

"Hallelujah, free at last!"

God bless my brother.

In seconds, he had rushed down the hallway, grinning like the fool that he was. He pulled me into a bear hug that lifted my feet off the ground.

"Quit it!" I slapped his back, but I was smiling too. "You're gonna squeeze me to death."

"Oh, Little-Bit, I even missed your bitching," he beamed. Then he turned to Mama. "You're looking beautiful as ever, Mother dear."

She really wanted to be mad at him. I know she did. But even Mama couldn't help but crack a smile.

"You're a mess, Two-Bit," she said, shaking her head. Then she turned back to the receptionist. "Is there anything else we need to do? Paperwork, anything like that?"

"Hey, is he being charged?" I asked.

"We'll be speaking with the gentleman who's car was vandalized today, and then we'll be able to -"

It was my turn to cut her off, now indignant. "You haven't even seen him yet? How the hell could you even arrest my brother then?"

"Young lady -"

Then, as if by divine intervention, Kolanski himself walked into the police station.

Mr. Kolanski was ancient. Years of living down the street from the Shepards, and being a main subject of their tricks, had only made him more cantankerous. Still, I gave him my best smile.

"Mr. Kolanski! You have great timing, sir." Even though the man was looking at me like I had lost my mind, I carried on jovially. "Tell me, is this the young man who damaged your vehicle?"

I gestured to Two-Bit. For his part, he stood up straight and fluttered his lashes, the picture of innocence. If he hadn't been in three day old beat up blue jeans, that is.

"Of course not!" Kolanski scowled. "It was that hoodlum Shepard! It's always Shepard! His own brother came and told me!"

Maybe Tim Shepard was good for his word after all.

I gave the secretary my most scathing look. There were plenty of things I wanted to say, but clearly, Mama didn't have any more bail money. So I turned back to my mother and said, "Come on, let's go home."

"Ain't gotta tell me twice," Two-Bit quipped, already heading for the door. As he loped out of the building, somehow, my brother hand bumped the clipboard in Mrs. Melnick's, nearly knocking it to the floor.

Her face pinched back up immediately, like she'd sucked on a lemon or something. "Watch where you're going, hoodlum! You've messed up my writing!"

"Sorry, ma'am." He sounded just as sweet and sympathetic as the receptionist had - to the rich lady, anyway.

Two-Bit winked as he held the door open for me and Mama. Gosh, but I had missed my brother.

* * *

 **A/N** : Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who reviewed! I was really anxious to pick this back up after so long, and I'm so happy to see that there's still some people reading. I'd also like to apologize, this chapter and the next two or three are not very Pony-centric. Our girl Rose has some shit to deal with before she gets her man. The fluff will pick back up soon though! Thank you guys for reading, and please review!


	20. Calm Before the Storm

**Chapter Nineteen: Calm Before the Storm**

Two-Bit drove us home, and he actually paid attention to the road for once. This seemed to please our mother, but I knew it was purely for her sake; it didn't matter if we were leaving the police station, Two-Bit Matthews didn't give a damn about silly things such as traffic laws. He did, however, care about his mama, even if he had a hell of a way of showing it.

Nobody said anything the whole way back. I sorely wanted to talk to both Mama and Two-Bit, but not in front of the other. So instead, we were treated to Two-Bit's rendition of whatever was on the radio for the fifteen minutes it took him to get to Chickasaw. It was a good thing he was such a smooth talker, because he sure couldn't sing.

"I'm gonna go lay down," Mama announced as soon as we stepped foot into the living room. She looked downright frazzled still, her eyes bugging out of her skull. "Rosalie, I want you to shower and go to school. Two-Bit, you come back to the house after you finish dropping your sister off."

"I was thinkin' about going back the station -" Two-Bit started joking, but she cut him off with a harsh glare. "Alright, alright, take the kid to school and come home, I got it."

Mama walked over and kissed me on the forehead, her long hair tickling my face when she leaned down. "I love you two kids more than anything else in the world. I hope you know that."

"We love you too, Mama."

Feeling distinctly cold and uncomfortable, I watched my mother make her way down the hallway and close her bedroom door. Then I lit a cigarette.

Two-Bit flopped onto the couch, pulling a smoke of his own out of Mama's pack on the coffee table. Then he looked at me with his forehead scrunched down - clearly, deep in thought. "You alright, kid?"

"We'll talk later. I've got to go to school, didn't ya hear?"

He snickered, but said nothing else.

I took my time showering, washing my hair and daydreaming about Ponyboy until the water went cold. Then I blew my hair out long and straight, painted on my best greaser girl face, and put on that God damn black funeral dress. Today would be the last day I ever wore it.

My brother cocked a eyebrow when I finally emerged at nearly ten o'clock, but all he said was, "You 'bout ready, princess?"

"Yep. C'mon."

My Mary Janes clicking against the wooden front steps was the only sound we made as we got back into the rust bucket. Lord, this might have been the longest my brother went without entertaining himself. Times _were_ changing.

Two-Bit couldn't hold out long, though. As soon as we turned onto Forrester, he adjusted his rear view and said casually, "So, you gonna tell me what happened in the three whole days I was locked up, or you gonna make me ask?"

I didn't beat around the bush. "You owe Mama $400."

"They charged y'all $400?" He asked, digging for a cigarette. "Damn, Tulsa PD must really be rakin' it in."

I handed him one of my Kools. I'd stolen his pack out of the glove compartment anyway. "They charged us $350. I'm throwing in an extra $50 for Mama's pain and suffering. And before you say shit, if the fuzz can add $50 for you causing a 'disturbance' then so the fuck can I."

"All I did was read from the Bible!" He protested. "'Sides, one of the guys who was in there with me said they passed some kinda Bail Act. We ought to be able to get our money back this time."

I frowned. That little secretary sure didn't mention that. Even then, I wasn't convinced. Greasers always got shit on, even when we didn't do anything wrong. The way the receptionist treated me and Mama as opposed to Mrs. Melnick was proof of that.

"I ain't gonna hold my breath on that one," I told him flatly, pulling out a smoke of my own. "By the way, go to the DX. I ain't quite ready for school yet."

My brother gave me a look, but he put his blinker on and turned towards the gas station, not the high school. "Alright, grouchy. You sound like you're the one who spent the weekend in the cooler."

"Oh, I was out and about plenty," I drawled. "Hell, I even went to see Tim Shepard on Friday night. He says hi, by the way."

"I'm sure he does," Two-Bit replied. "Tim got busted fuckin' around on the cards at Buck's a couple weeks ago. Buck and his gang were all for knocking his head in, but I persuaded 'em to let Tim pay up and get out. Saved his ass."

"Well, Tim saved _your_ ass, because he certainly was the reason that Kolanski showed up first thing this morning," I told him. Even though I was a little shocked that Tim had ratted on Curly, the old man had said it himself.

"And now me and him are square," my brother shrugged.

I just blinked at him. Glory, what I would give to be that cavalier about, well, anything. As close as we were, sometimes my brother and I weren't alike at all.

"Where'd you have to go to find him?" Two-Bit asked, switching into the other lane to pass a Volkswagen.

"Some bar off Jackson," I said. Then, because it was my big brother, I asked him about something that had been bothering me all weekend. "Darry said he could've killed me. He's just bein' Darry, though, right?"

Two-Bit fiddled with the radio for a second before telling me, "'Cause you're my kid sister, Tim wouldn't do shit to you. If you weren't, though - I'm not sure what to tell ya. Early this year, Tim carried off some guy that put hands on Angela, and there's been... stories since then. Word around town is that he's gettin' deeper into the dope business, and it's makin' Tim make some questionable decisions. He certainly was stupid to try to cheat Buck Merril, I'll say."

I thought about the joint I smoked in Terry Jones's backyard, Tim's dangerous eyes in the bar, and bit my lip. I'd never admit it, but maybe, I was in over my head with Shepards.

The only thing I could think to say was, "You oughta quit gambling."

"Well, Little-Bit, now I'm in debt to my own fuckin' mama, so you'll have to cut me some slack on that one," he said, turning on his blinker to pull into the DX.

"You got a couple dollars to buy us Pepsis, debtor?"

"For you? I reckon."

Two-Bit parked as close to the front as he could. There was nobody there to watch, but he still had a strut to his step as he waltzed to the doors and held one open for me. Free at last, indeed.

"Jailbird, you flew the coop!" Soda said excitedly from the register. The man he was checking out scowled, but his little wife still seemed pretty entertained.

"I told y'all the fuzz couldn't handle me," my brother grinned.

I shoved him, but I was grinning too. This felt normal, like waking up to breakfast after a bad dream.

"Why ain't you in school, Rosalie?" Sodapop asked me.

I walked back to grab a cold bottle of pop as I answered him. "Had to go free the jailbird! See what a terrible influence he is? And Darry thinks I'm bad."

Soda laughed, waving the couple goodbye before coming around the counter. "You sure can hold a grudge, Little-Bit. Ain't he already said sorry?"

"He did," I said, opening my Pepsi. "D'you really think he means it though?"

"Rose, you shoulda seen the way Pony hit the roof when he found out," Soda replied, looking deadly serious, his eyes trained on mine. "Darry means it."

I knew it was silly and off subject, but I couldn't help but beam. "I didn't know Pony said anything to him."

Two-Bit put his hand on his forehead, fawning dramatically, "Oh Ponyboy, defend my honor!"

"Oh, hush. You think Wanda Idelmann stayed lonely this weekend while you were in the cooler?" I asked icily.

My brother stopped so quick he nearly dropped his Pepsi. "Shit. I meant to ask her to Soda's party this weekend. Maybe _I_ oughta go to school."

"Hey, then you'll both have dates this weekend, huh?" Sodapop asked, brown eyes dancing wildly now.

Two-Bit clapped a hand to his mouth. "Rosalie Lucille! Don't tell me that you have a date this weekend and you neglected to tell big brother!"

"It hadn't come up yet," I said with a grimace. "Thanks, Soda."

He winked at me, oblivious. "Anytime, darlin'."

"I reckon this is me and Pony's first date, or somethin' like that," I told them, staring at the toes of my shoes like they were the newest movie. "So don't y'all mess it up for me, okay?"

"We wouldn't dream of it," Two-Bit said sweetly. "You should try not to mess your face up between now and then though."

I took a swig of my Pepsi, tryin' to look casual myself. "No promises. There's still Angela to deal with."

"So _that's_ why you're waitin' around."

"Better to fight at lunch than at school," I shrugged.

"Tough enough, little darlin'."

Soda watched the two of us go back and forth like a tennis match. Then, he piped in, "Rose, be careful. You get in an awful lot of fights."

I smiled wryly. "You sound like your brother."

"Which one?"

"Honestly? Either of 'em."

We all three laughed together for a minute. I sure did like them, even when I didn't like them.

"C'mon, Little-Bit, it's almost 11 now," Two-Bit said, digging into his pockets, "and if I don't get back to the house soon, Mama's gonna throw me back in the hole."

"You? Concerned about your mama?" Soda asked incredulously.

"Shit-For-Brains finally won. Jail has made me a changed man. How much do I owe ya?"

"It's on me. Y'all just stop by the house later, ya hear?" Sodapop clapped Two-Bit on the back. "It's good to see y'all."

"Thanks, Sodapop. We'll see ya later."

Me and Two-Bit weren't even out of the parking lot before I lit another smoke. Maybe if I kept a cigarette in my hands, they wouldn't shake. For all the fights I'd been in, I'd never been nervous like this. But then, I'd never been in a fight that meant so much to me. Maybe if I had been in the rumble.

Two-Bit, to his credit, left me alone while I chain smoked. He went back to singing along to Dion, driving right past the high school. He knew where to go.

"Do I need to stick around?" He asked once the grocery store came into view. Lunch was certainly in session, because the parking lot was filled in leather and smoke.

I told my brother honestly, "I'd prefer if you didn't."

"Alright, kid. Fuck 'em up and tell me all about it, alright?"

I nodded at him before stepping out of the rust bucket and into the October sunshine. A lot of people had turned their heads to watch me, but I didn't pay them any mind.

It was time to find Angela.

* * *

 **A/N** : Thank you to I'm The Galactic Starfish and the lovely guest who pointed out that the Matthews should get back their bail money. To be honest, I'm not super familiar with the legal system, so I actually didn't know that! The Bail Act of 1966 that Two-Bit mentioned is also a real thing. I'm not totally sure what all it encompasses though, so if I'm still wrong, I'm sorry! Feel free to let me know.

I would like to apologize for one more thing. Last summer, I must have been drunk writing or something to name a character Kolanski and not realize the obvious connection to director Roman Polanski, who was charged with statutory rape. This was completely accidental, and I am so sorry. To avoid confusing readers, I'm going to wait until the story is finished to change the character's name. He won't be mentioned much more anyway.

Thank you to everyone that read this chapter! Please review and let me know what you think!


	21. Devil or Angel

**Chapter Twenty: Devil or Angel**

Angela Shepard was never hard to spot. Her long pile of blue-black curls were shining bright from the middle of the parking lot, just how she liked it. And in typical Shepard fashion, she wasn't alone either. Surrounding Angela was Valerie O'Brien, Sue Galloway, Frank Sullivan, Jennifer Price, Curly Shepard, and a handful of guys that were clearly under Curly's command. A full house.

I kinda wished I had some whiskey and Coke right about now.

Regardless, I pushed ahead. The crowd parted for me like the god damn Red Sea. Some of them knew me, but some of 'em just saw a pretty, pissed off broad and knew to get the hell out of the way. Angela eventually heard the whispers and turned around. We stared each other down.

"Rosalie!" She called out with a grin. "When you didn't show up at school this morning, I really thought I'd scared you off! Looks like you're dumber than I thought."

"Nah, I just had to post bail for my big brother," I told her, returning the easygoing tone. "By the way, you're dumber than _I_ thought if you really believed that Two-Bit would go down for that. Kolanski was down at the station this morning. I'd imagine Tulsa PD is already lookin for ya, Curls."

Angela's face twisted, but it was Jennifer Price that gasped and came forward. Her blonde hair was board straight, and she was wearing her favorite black skirt. Jen had dressed for the occasion too, it seemed. Her beet red face didn't match her outfit, though. I hadn't seen her that heated since she thought I stole her boyfriend in middle school. I should have knocked the fuck out her out back then.

Jennifer screeched, "Curly is already on probation! You have no idea what you did!"

"Maybe you and your little friends should've left me the hell alone then, Jennifer," I snapped. Then, I laughed, "You know, this ain't even really me and Angela's fight. This is really about me and you, ain't it?"

"What are you talking about?" Her blue eyes were narrowed, but she was no fool. She knew just what I meant; it was the crowd gathering around us that needed context.

I put a hand on my hip, lifting my chin as I said, "You're hacked off 'cause I ain't listenin' to you. You can't tell me what to do anymore."

Jennifer stepped even closer, her shiny black leather shoes nearly on mine. I could smell her perfume, still cheap no matter how much she tried to class herself up - or down, I reckon, depending on the situation.

"And look at what happened to you without me," she retorted.

I tried to grin at her, but I think I just showed my teeth. "My brother is home right now, and Ponyboy asked me on a date to Sodapop's party. _Your_ boyfriend is fixin' to go back to juvenile hall, you lost all of your friends, and you and your new gang have to miss out on the best party of the year. I think I did pretty good without you, Jen."

Glory, Jennifer looked like a completely different person. Her pretty features were contorted with rage, and they're were tears in her eyes when she cried out, "You think you're so special 'cause your brother is a hood, and 'cause some other hood wants you -"

I cut her off. "And you think you're the queen of the world 'cause you're dating a dope dealer."

She shoved me in the shoulder, but I didn't move. "You better shut your mouth before I -"

"Before you what, tell your mommy on me?" I tipped my head back and laughed. "You're not gonna do shit, Jennifer Price, 'cause you're all talk and no action. Ain't that right, Curly?"

To tell you the truth, I kinda deserved it when Jennifer punched me in the jaw. But I still wasn't expecting it.

Things got a little wild after that. The crowd of people circling us started screaming as I swung straight for Jennifer's straight white teeth. She grabbed my hair and yanked hard, just like a bitch.

"Let me at her!" Angela roared, pushing Jennifer aside roughly. She looked me square in the eyes. "You can have Ponyboy. Y'all are both trash. This is just for makin' me look bad."

Angela hit me twice, and quick, once in the cheek and once in the mouth. The taste of blood came quick. I had to spit some out on the ground before I could knock Angela back with a hard right hook to the eye.

Valerie came from out of nowhere and punched me in the ribs, no preamble. I turned to hit her in the face, but Angela smacked the side of my head with her fist before I could. Jennifer got brave and came back to pop me in the temple again, the only place she could reach.

Fuck. One on one, I was the best fighter on the East side. Three mean ass Shepard girls against one and I was really starting to get scared.

I flailed both arms, my hands curled into fists. I needed some god damn space. Valerie just saw this as an opportunity for another rib shot, this time hard enough to knock the breath out of me.

And then, like some kind of greaser guardian angel, Beth Davis busted through the crowd. Hollering like a lunatic, she punched Jennifer Price right in the nose. Blood started gushing out immediately.

"Holy shit, Beth!" I yelled.

She gave me a grin before Valerie aimed for her stomach next. Nancy had followed her though, and she punched Valerie in the back of the head. Even with my mouth full of blood, I couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Nancy Aberdeen hitting anybody, let alone Valerie O'Brien.

While Angela was turned to look at Valerie, I took the chance to hit her three times, as hard as I could manage. She nearly lost her balance. Then she fixed me with a cold, deadly stare and reached into her skirt, producing a switch blade.

Oh shit.

"Can't hit this, can you, bitch?" She asked through gritted teeth.

Carla was coming up from behind her. I kept my face neutral, so Angela was taken completely off guard when Carla smacked her in the ear, a move she'd taken from her little brother Ben. It worked though. Angela screeched.

Filled with terror for Carla and absolutely nothing else, I grabbed the blade of the knife with my bare hand. It cut into my flesh, even more blood dripping down onto the concrete. But I'd gambled and I'd gotten lucky. The switch blade was cheap, and the actual blade came off easily. I whipped it around, turning it on Angela with the hand that wasn't pouring crimson on everything.

"Whatcha gonna do now?"

Jennifer was looking at that blade like it was a bomb. I don't know why, but I grinned wickedly at her before I took my bloody hand and ran it across her white blouse. The front bloomed with scarlet stains.

"Oh my god, you're crazy!" She yelled.

"Maybe I am. Maybe that's why y'all should leave me the fuck alone," I said lowly.

Angela took a step forward. I swiped the tip of the blade across her cheek. The already swollen skin scratched easily, beads of blood rising to the surface.

And then -

"Cops!" Somebody screamed.

"Everybody run!"

"It's the fuzz!"

Fuck.

I shoved the blade into the pocket of my dress and ran. Everybody was scattering anyway, including Angela and Jennifer, and my own friends. I headed for the grocery store, ducking to the side and running behind it at the last second. Glory, I wished I didn't smoke so many cigarettes right now.

There was an old, worn road that went along behind the store. I ran along that for a while. My feet slapping the pavement and my own heartbeat sounded as loud as a gun in my ears.

Pure adrenaline pushed me until the sound of sirens was gone and the only thing around were run down houses. It was then that it occurred to me I had no idea where I was at.

First, I sat down on a curb, exhausted. Then I examined my hand.

I'd cut it pretty bad, no doubt. Carefully, I took the blade out of my pocket, grateful that I'd sewn one in. At the time, I just wanted a pack of Kools for the funeral.

Now I cut off a thin strip of black fabric, all the way around the hem of the dress, trying to go evenly while not making it scandalously short. When I was done, I wrapped the fabric around my hand tightly. A makeshift bandage was better than nothing until I could figure out how to get home.

As soon as I thought of home, I was back on my feet. After all, if I wanted to make it there, I didn't need to linger on the street. Especially with a torn, short dress, already bloodied up.

I wanted to go back the way that I came, but the fuzz might not have left yet. So I continued down the road, trying to keep an eye out for trouble - or a street sign that looked familiar.

Sure enough, the next intersection told me that I was at the corner of Russell and Senatobia.

I stared at that sign for a while, wondering just what kinda joke God what trying to play on me. Then I lit another cigarette.

I knew how to get home from Sin Park, that was for damn sure.

The street started to look familiar a few minutes after I turned down Senatobia Road. How long had it been since I had come to this park? Even before Johnny and Bob, it must have been a couple years. When Carla and I were eleven, we were playing on the swing set and some older boys came and started calling us pretty. Carla hopped up and started running, but I had to call them disgusting motherfuckers before I could follow her. Even at eleven, I had a mouth that my mother would cringe at.

That very same swing set came into view just a moment later. Then the slide, and the fountain.

Because it was the middle of a Monday afternoon, the park was empty. It felt spooky as I walked up to the fountain and looked at my reflection.

Well, Two-Bit was going to be disappointed, because I certainly fucked up my face. My cheek was puffy and turning purple, and so was my jaw. At least my eyes and my nose had been spared. Maybe with makeup, I could look somewhat passable in a few days.

I stuck my hands straight into the cool water of the fountain. The fabric I'd wrapped around my hand was soaked immediately, but it felt good against the wound. I rinsed my face and mouth, over and over again, long after the blood had come off. I seriously debating stepping in, laying down in that concrete fountain, but I figured I'd really get arrested then.

When I was done, my face was flushed, but it looked a lot better. Decent enough for my mama, I guess. Because that was where I was headed next.


End file.
